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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408511">Where the Sun Meets the Sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersmile/pseuds/sunflowersmile'>sunflowersmile</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>69th Hunger Games, 70th Hunger Games, Anxiety, Canonical Character Death, Chariot Ride, District 13 (Hunger Games), District 4 (Hunger Games), F/M, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Hunger Games, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Mental Health Issues, Reapings (Hunger Games), The Capitol (Hunger Games), Training Center, Tribute Parade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:09:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>75,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersmile/pseuds/sunflowersmile</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Annie?” I ask, fiddling with my necklace. It’s become a habit, a way to ground myself. A reminder of reality after the nightmares. <br/>Annie gives me a small smile. “It’s like before. We knew that something was coming. We’ll just show him against that he can’t break us.”<br/>“Annie?” I say again, searching her eyes for the answer to the question etched on my heart.<br/>“Yes?”<br/>“I love you.”<br/>“Finnick? I think I love you too.”<br/>“You think?” I tease, reaching up to touch her cheek. <br/>“I know,” Annie whispers. Both of our eyes ask for permission, and each of us grants it. We kiss, and the world seems to stop for a moment. And all the bad goes away because I love her and she loves me. <br/>Countless others have fallen in love on this Earth, but for now—it seems as though our love is the only one that can exist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annie Cresta &amp; Mags &amp; Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Finnick Odair/Other(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first work, so I hope that it will turn out well. The plot hasn’t really started yet, so these first couple chapters are mainly going to be fluff. I hope you enjoy and thank you if you’re reading this! (also, looking back on these first couple chapters-they are not my best work, but I'm trying to become a better writer, so I promise they'll get better as time goes on! &lt;3)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pushing my way through the crowd, I keep a tight grip on my basket. I’m trying to get to Mags’ house in the Victor’s Village before dusk, but I’m running late. Ben didn’t want to leave my side and Lizzy needed extra help with her homework. As I try to avoid stepping in a puddle, I bump into someone and my basket goes flying. Before I fall, steady arms pull me up, and I find myself looking into the sea green eyes of Finnick Odair.</p><p>Wait, <em>Finnick Odair. </em>That can’t be right. Why would he be here? I mean, he lives in District Four, but he always seems to be off in the Capitol with pretty women hanging off his arm. I try my best not to judge people, but how are you supposed to comprehend a guy who has a new girlfriend every week?</p><p>“Well hello there, darling,” he says, his voice breaking through my thoughts.</p><p>“I’m not your darling,” I clamp a hand over my mouth as the words escape. Finnick smirks at me. I turn away before he can see the flush that creeps up my face, and I start to pick up the scattered parcels that had fallen from my basket.</p><p>“Well if you’re not my darling, then who are you?” He leans against a stall, holding one of my parcels and studying it casually.</p><p>“What does it matter to you? Just let me go,” I meet his eyes and hold out my hand. “Let me have that,” I gesture to the parcel, “and I won’t waste anymore of your precious time.”</p><p>I know that I shouldn’t be talking to him, <em>Finnick Odair,</em> District Four’s perfect victor, like that, but I’m so exhausted from the day that I lose my filter. Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again, let alone become friends with him. He must see something in my face, because he gives me a little push and starts to walk with me.</p><p>“So, where is this mysterious lady headed?” Finnick asks me, pulling my basket from my hands. I begin to protest, but he gives me a leisurely smile and ignores me.</p><p>“If you so desperately want to know, I’m going to Mags’ house to drop off some food.”</p><p>He gives a dramatic gasp, “Then this must be fate! I’m heading home right now, but first I was going to stop by her house to say hello.”</p><p>I think about talking him out of it, but I don’t have the energy, and continue to walk alongside Finnick. After a few minutes of silent walking, we arrive at Mags’ house. I put on a bright smile as we walk inside.</p><p>“Mags? It’s Annie, and I just wanted to let you know I’m dropping off some food. There’s some fish and fresh muffins,” I say, taking my basket and opening it, putting the parcels away. Finnick leans on the counter and begins munching on a sugar cube, staring at me.</p><p>“What do you want?” I ask defensively, giving up on any ideas of being polite.</p><p>“Why are you helping out Mags? I have nothing against it, I was just wondering,” he says, continuing to look at me, almost like he recognizes me.</p><p>I sigh, then answer as I finish putting the fish away, “Her son knew my dad. When he died, she helped out, looking after me and my siblings while my mom worked. After a couple years, I realized I should probably repay her, and started baking for her. Now, it’s just because I like to check up on her, and I really enjoy her company.” I stretch the truth a little, leaving out the part when Mags saved me, the night my dad died. She’d been the one to pick me up from the floating rubble of the boat, and the one to hold me as I cried for my dead dad.</p><p>Finnick continues to eat his sugar cube, contemplating his words. “Thank you. I know that we don’t really know each other, but Mags has done a lot for me, so it’s nice to know there’s someone else looking after her too.”</p><p>We stand in silence and I start writing a note to leave for Mags, when his eyes light up and he snaps his fingers.</p><p>“The day at the beach! When we were little, don’t you remember? One of the other kids thought he saw a shark, but I was too far out to hear. You were scared too, but you swam out to me and pulled me in. There hadn’t been a shark, but I felt I had to repay you somehow. Since we were so little, I thought a kiss on the cheek would do.” He grins sheepishly at the last part, and my jaw drop a little. I know I must look foolish, but <em>why would he remember that? </em>I barely do, but after everything he remembers, why that? Thankfully Mags walks down before I have to think of something to say.</p><p>“I left some food for you, but I better head home-it’s getting later than I thought,” I chew on my lip as I look outside. The sun has drooped in the sky, hidden behind clouds, but I think I just might have enough left to get home. I don’t mind the dark itself, I just don’t like being in it alone. It reminds me too much of when I was floating in the water, my voice crying out hoarsely.</p><p>Mags smiles at me and gives me a hug as I turn to leave. She doesn’t talk very much, but I know her well enough to take this as a thanks.</p><p>“Wait-you shouldn’t go home alone. It’ll be dark soon and you’re house isn’t that close,” Finnick’s words pull my hand from the doorknob.</p><p>“No, you live here. I’ll be fine,” I protest. We go back and forth for a little bit, and I can’t help but notice the sun as it dips lower and lower into the sky.</p><p>“Stop it. You walk her. You let him,” Mags’ voice breaks through, and we both stop, listening to her command.</p><p>“Well, I guess that settles it,” Finnick smiles at me. <em>Ugh, why does he have to do that. </em>He could practically blind me with the brightness of his teeth. Much to my annoyance,  the corners of my lips start to turn up.</p><p>“Fine.”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>We walk along the beach towards my house. I live on the outskirts of town, so it’s about a 20 minute walk from the Victor’s Village. Thankfully, we’re able to walk along the ocean, so the sunset gives me an excuse to stay quiet. The soft orange and pinks greet the ocean with gentleness as the sun begins to fade into the horizon. I slow down to take off my sandals and f the sand beneath my feet, the breeze in my hair.</p><p>“Can we stop for a second?” I ask, gesturing to the bush of wild roses. “It’s just that my mom has had a long day, and I thought that maybe picking some flowers would help cheer her up.” I stumble over my words a little, not knowing why I feel the need to explain myself.</p><p>“Of course,” he replies, sitting in the sand. I see him grab a couple pieces of long grass, but am too caught up in the beauty of the flowers to think about it. The soft magenta is a reflection of the sunset, and the scent covers me like a light perfume, soaking my skin. I close my eyes, breathing in with the ocean.</p><p>“Hey,” Finnick says gently, “are you okay?” I prepare myself to put on a smile and say I’m fine, like I do everyday, but the look in his eyes makes me stop. I look down at the flowers in my hands and give a weak laugh.</p><p>“No, not really,” I say, tears gathering in my eyes, making my vision blurry. I look out into the ocean. Before I overthink, the words rush out of my mouth,“It-it’s just been a hard week. My dad died around this time, and my mom is barely holding herself together, so it’s up to me to be there for Lizzy and Ben. Mom is always working so I have to try and get jobs that still let me look after the two of them, so most of the time I’m working night shifts, so I barely have any time to sleep, let alone take care of myself and it feels like my dad is dying all over again and I feel like it’s all my fault that he died and-” I can’t finish the sentence because my throat tightening as tears come down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said all that, I’m sorry. I really don’t want to be a burden,” I try to push out the words out through my tears.</p><p>“Hey, hey, shhhh. You’re gonna be okay. It’s okay to cry, you have nothing to apologize for. Hell, even I cry sometimes,” I give him a weak smile at that. He stands up and wraps his arms around me, and for some reason I find it comforting. Before I realize what’s happening, he is picking me up and running to the water.</p><p>“What-what are you doing?!” I splutter as he throws me into the water.</p><p>“You need a little fun,” he replies, giving me a smile. I look at him, eyes bright with happiness and a smile drifting on his lips, and I realize all my assumptions are wrong. It’s almost like seeing a completely different person from the one posted on the front of all the magazines.</p><p>“Oh, you want me to have fun? I’ll show you what’s fun,” I grin at him as I push him into the waves. We splash around, dunking each other and losing track of time as the stars start to peek out.</p><p>My clothes are soaked by the time we collapse onto the beach, laying on top of his sweater. He took his shirt off and I can’t help but notice his defined muscles showing through sun-kissed skin. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling slightly self-conscious as I realize that my shirt must be see through. Before I worry about it too much, I move my mind to other things, and start to collect the roses I’d picked.</p><p>“Here,” Finnick says, handing me a woven bracelet. That must have been what he was doing with the grass.</p><p>“Thank you-for the bracelet and for this. Just letting me forget for a moment,” I say, shivering as we begin walking again. He drapes his sweater around my shoulders, and I let myself breathe in his scent. It’s sweet, but I still smell the salt, the thick scent that you can never get out of your skin when you live in District Four.</p><p>“No, not forget,” he says, looking into the distance, “Just remembering something else.”</p><p>I don’t understand the difference, but I’m too sleepy to think much of it. I find myself leaning into him, and then Finnick Odair is picking me up and carrying me home. As my eyes droop closed, I see him smiling down at me. And against my better will, I find myself smiling up at him.</p><p>“Goodnight, Annie,” he whispers, setting me back onto my feet once we reach my house. I’m too sleepy to ask him how he knows my name, so I give him a grateful smile. It’s already too late when I realize that I still have his sweater draped around my shoulders. <em>I’ll give it to him tomorrow. </em>I think sleepily as I drift off into a wonderful dreamland of salt water and sunsets.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don’t see Annie for another week. I go over to Mags’ house almost everyday, but instead of in the mornings, I start going in the evenings. I’m always too late, and I can’t help but feel disappointed whenever Mags gives me a sad smile. I know that I shouldn’t let myself become friends with Annie, but it was so nice to talk to someone who doesn’t see me as a Capitol whore or a perfect god.</p><p>“Good morning,” I say to Mags, kissing her on top of her head. She gives me a grunt in reply and pours me a cup of coffee, pushing me towards the eggs. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night,” I say, putting some fruit on a plate. I’d gotten a letter from President Snow telling me that I would have some time off before I was needed at the Capitol for the games. He usually fills early summer with clients, so his letter set me on edge. After worrying about it for too long, I got drunk and crashed on Mags’ couch.</p><p>“Water,” she commands, giving the empty liquor bottle an pointed glare. Once we sit down at the kitchen table she plops eggs and bacon onto my plate. We start eating, but we’re interrupted by a hesitant knock on the back door.</p><p>“Are we expecting anyone?” I ask, getting up to answer it.</p><p>“Mags?” Her voice is quiet and her eyes widen in surprise when I open the door. I hear Mags give a grunt behind me and I open the door wider. “I’m sorry I’m early, but the festival starts tonight and Lizzy really wants to go, so I though I’d drop off the food this morning. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you,” she says quickly, avoiding my eyes.</p><p>“No, no, you’re good,” I say, smiling at her. “Here, let me help,” I gab one of bags and start to put away the food.</p><p>“Oh!” Annie smacks a hand to her head, “I’m sorry! I meant to bring your sweater for Mags to give to you, but I forgot,” she sighs. Behind me, Mags makes a tsking sound at the slight implications.</p><p>“No-no, it was nothing like that! Annie here just needed to relax a little,” I go over to Mags and squeeze her shoulders, but she still gives me a disapproving look.</p><p>“He’s right, it was nothing,” Annie says, and Mags nods her head—believing Annie’s word over my own.</p><p>“Here, I can help you carry your stuff back and then I can pick up my sweater,” I say, knowing that Mags will support me as she starts to nod her head.</p><p>“Thank you,” Annie says, though it seems a bit sarcastic.</p><p>“Good,” Mags states, nudging us to the door. She sits back down and begins eating her breakfast.</p><p>“Ladies first,” I say, bowing as I open the door. Annie gives me a halfhearted smile as we walk outside.</p><p>“You don’t have to do that,” she says, handing me a basket.</p><p>“What?” I flash her a smile, “Charm you?”</p><p>Annie looks a little flustered, “Well—yes. You don’t have to flirt with me or anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be the person the Capitol made you into.”</p><p>I can’t think of anything to say. Annie is the first person, other than Mags, to ever realize that there is a difference between the Capitol Victor, Finnick Odair, and the Finnick who is my real self. She’s one of the first to actually <em>care </em>that there’s a difference.</p><p>I’m still dumbstruck, so we continue walking along in silence. We’re walking the same path we did a week ago, but this time the sun is rising instead of setting. We arrive at her house, and I get a good look at it since last time it was dark. The wood siding is worn from constant weather and the roof is a pale blue.</p><p>“You can come in, I’ll have to grab the sweater,” Annie says, holding the door open. “Sorry about Percy in advance.”</p><p>“Thanks,” I say, walking inside. The walls are crowded with old pictures and finger-paintings. I see Annie when she was younger, hiding behind a man I presume to be her father. Annie leads me to the kitchen where we drop off the baskets. Percy, who I presume to be the dog, jumps up on me immediately.</p><p>“Wait here,” she says, disappearing into another room, her braided hair swinging behind her. I’ve only been standing for about a minute, petting Percy, when I see two pairs of eyes peeking out from behind a door. I give them a smile and a little wave. The girl walks out confidently and she looks exactly like Annie. Well, her face does. Her hair is cropped at her shoulders, but it’s flaming red instead of Annie’s dark brown. She looks to be about 9 years old.</p><p>“Hello, what’s your name?” I kneel on the ground hold out a hand to her. Behind the girl, I see a little boy who has Annie’s blue eyes and looks around 5 years old. “Wait, let me guess. Is it Annie? No—that’s your sister’s name. Is is Lily?” I smile at her and she giggles. “Aha! I know, it’s Ariel!” The little girl smiles up at me and laughs.</p><p>“No-my name is Lizzy!”</p><p>“Of course!” I smack my head, “How could I forget that?” I meet her eyes and hold out my hand, “Nice to meet you Miss Lizzy.” She reaches out with her little hand and shakes my hand proudly. I go to stand back up, but a slight tugging on my hand pulls me down. It’s the little boy, the one who’d been hiding behind Lizzy.</p><p>“Then you must be Ben,” I say, crouching down. He nods his head solemnly, still holding on to my hand.</p><p>“Are you famous? ‘Cause I think I’ve seen you on TV,” Ben says, looking thoughtful.</p><p>“Sorry I took so long,” Annie says, rushing into the room. “Here you go,” she hands me my sweater. She starts moving around the kitchen, “Lizzy did you put your laundry away?” I see Lizzy dash into the other room as Annie sighs.</p><p>“Let me stay, I can help out. Your wish is my command,” I see Annie hesitate, “Please, I have nothing else to do, so I’d rather help out than go tie knots.”</p><p>“Sure,” she replies. I look at her questioningly. “Can you play with Ben for now while I finish up with some chores? Then could you help me gut the fish?”</p><p>“That,” I smile, “is something I can do.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After Lizzy comes back from doing her laundry, I take the two kids and the dog outside. Knots come easily to me, so my fingers fly as I make a flower crown for Lizzy. Ben pulls at my hand.</p><p>“Can you teach me,” he says, pointing to the flower crown. “Please,” he says as an afterthought. I smile to myself, Annie must have rubbed off on him.</p><p>“Here,” I pull out a piece of rope that I always keep in my pocket, “How about we start you with some basic knots?” he nods his head eagerly.</p><p>I lose track of time as I lay in the sun, praising Ben’s work and weaving flowers through Lizzy’s hair. At some point Annie comes out and I move to help her with the fish, but she shakes her head. I realize that Lizzy has started to play with my hair, putting it into tiny pigtails and knots.</p><p>“<em>Sorry,”</em> Annie mouths. I laugh and Lizzy picks more flowers to put in my hair, while Percy chases circles around her.</p><p>I close my eyes and let myself relax in the warmth of the sunshine. I don’t remember being able to willing relax in anyone’s company except for Mags’. It feels nice. To not worry. To be free, even if it’s just for a moment.</p><p>I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I process is hands shaking my shoulders as I open my eyes.</p><p>“Ahh!” I yell, sitting upright, startled. “Who are these monsters? They’re absolutely terrifying!” I try to cover for myself, and for the fact that they’d actually scared me. Lizzy and Ben had covered their faces with mud, and both were on the ground laughing. They’d made a mess—mud was everywhere, even on the dog.</p><p>“It’s us, silly!” Ben says as he laughs, rolling around. Out of the corner of my eye I see Annie doubled over, laughing.</p><p>“They-they actually,” she can barely speak between her laughs, “they scared you!”</p><p>“No,” I say defensively, reaching over to tickle Lizzy. Annie doesn’t get a chance to argue with me, because her mother walks into the backyard.</p><p>“I thought I saw you out here,” she gives a tired smile to Annie. Lizzy and Ben run over to her and pummel her with hugs.</p><p>I brush off sand from my legs as I stand up. “Hello, Mrs. Cresta,” I say, running a hand through my tangled hair.</p><p>“Oh! Hello,” she seems a bit startled, but I smile at her.</p><p>“I should get going,” I say, moving towards the door.</p><p>“No, you’ve helped out Annie, we have to repay you somehow,” Mrs. Cresta seems to have found her bearings, and gives me a warm smile. “I’d invite you to dinner, but we were planning to eat at the festival.” I begin to say that it’s all right, that I don’t want my help to be of any burden to them, but Lizzy talks first.</p><p>“Come to the festival with us! It’ll be fun!” Lizzy smiles up her mom, happy that she’s found the perfect solution.</p><p>“No, I don’t think so. It’s supposed to be a family night, right?” I say, continuing towards the door.</p><p>“Yes, but you can still come. Everyone’s family right?” Annie smiles at me. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Besides,” she whispers, “how could you say no to Ben?” I can’t, which is the problem. He’s staring at me with puppy-dog eyes that could beat the ones Percy gave me when I gave the kids a snack.</p><p>“Fine,” I smile, putting my hands up, “I give in! Just let me go back home to clean up.”</p><p>I’m allowed to leave after we agree on a meet-up time at Annie’s house and she walks me to the front door.</p><p>“Thank you,” Annie says, handing me my sweater.</p><p>“Of course! I’m happy to help,” I smile, then drop to a more serious tone, “Please, call me. If you ever need some extra help or just want someone to watch the kids, tell me. I want to help.”</p><p>“I will,” she says, “Now go clean up—you smell like mud!” Laughing, she pushes me out the door.         </p><p>“Mags? I’m home,” I call out. I’d already gone to my own house to clean up, and I wanted to tell Mags that I was going to the festival with Annie’s family.</p><p>“Coming,” she mumbles, walking down the stairs. She must have fallen asleep, because she looks at me groggily.</p><p>“Mail,” she says, nodding her head to the table. She goes over to the kettle and starts making herself tea, humming a tune to herself.</p><p>“Do you think—” I don’t have to finish my thought because Mags knows. Besides, the strongly perfumed letter says enough for itself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mr. Odair, I would like to wish congratulations on a well-run Victory Tour this past winter. I understand that Ms. Lee has performed her part well. Additionally, I would like to remind you of your duties as mentor in the upcoming games and of your many waiting clients. Say hello to your Ms. Cresta, for me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>President Snow</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I already have a couple chapters finished, so I might post another one today. After that I don’t really know when I’ll be posting chapters (ugh online school), but I am definitely going to try my best to complete this work.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m braiding Lizzy’s hair when I hear his scream. Ben. The brush clatters to the floor and I run to the backyard. Ben is sitting, holding Percy, sobbing.</p><p>“What’s wrong, sweetie, is everything okay?” I try to reassure myself that he’s okay. Ben’s okay. I don’t see anything bleeding on him or the dog.</p><p>“He’s dead,” Ben says bluntly, tears pouring down his cheeks.</p><p>“Lizzy?” I call for my little sister and push them towards the house, giving them a rare encouragement to eat chocolate.</p><p>“Mom—” my voice cracks, “Can you come here?” I hate to pull my mom into this, but I don’t know what else to do. Tears start pooling in my own eyes as she rushes out. After Ben had left, I checked Percy all over and didn’t see any blood or cuts.</p><p>“What happened?” Her own desperate whisper breaks through the silence.</p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t see any cuts or anything. I would say it was a heart attack, but he was running around with Ben just a minute ago,” my voice sounds odd, and I realize that it’s because of the tears still threatening to choke me. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>It was something Mags taught me. But no matter how many deep breaths I take, I can’t get the feeling in my stomach out. A feeling that I can’t quite place.</p><p>“He’s just a dog. We’ll be okay. Besides, we have the festival to get ready for,” my mom gives me a smile and stands up, leaving me with Percy. I know that I should go back inside, clean up, and get ready to go to the festival, but I don’t know what to do with him. I can’t just leave him on the ground. My mom said that he’s just a dog, but he isn’t. It’s her way of coping, I guess, but how does she expect Lizzy and Ben to get over the last piece they had of their dad?</p><p>Lizzy has faint memories, but Ben was only a baby. I smile a little and laugh to myself as I remember the day dad brought him home. Percy was a energetic bundle of puppy love and he hadn’t grown into his paws, so he slipped on our hardwood floor. Memories threaten to strangle me, but I push them down. <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>Until the shovel is in my hand, I don’t realize that I had been moving to the shed.</p><p>“Might as well,” I say to myself, beginning to dig a hole. I know that I should be setting an example for Lizzy and Ben, but the tears keep falling down my face, making my vision blurrier and blurrier. But I have to keep digging. To give Percy the grave my dad never got. Somewhere in my mind I know that he’s at peace in the ocean, but I selfishly feel that we should have been able to mourn him properly. Thinking of dad, I realize what the feeling in my stomach in; it’s the feeling I get right before a storm hits. The feeling I got the night my dad and I were on our boat together, pulling in <em>just one more </em>load of fish.</p><p>It’s not until Finnick’s strong arms are wrapped around me, pulling the shovel from my hands, that I realize I’ve collapsed on the ground.</p><p>“I promise I’m not usually like this,” I try to say, but I doubt he can understand me. Through my tears I see him finish digging the grave, and see him pick up Percy, gently laying him to sleep.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Percy at the same time Finnick start to say “Annie, I’m so sorry.” We both laugh a little as he starts to put the dirt back. While he finishes, I take some of the shells Lizzy was collecting and lay them across the grave.</p><p>“If you’re not usually like this, then show me who you are—you know, when you’re not crying,” he smiles and holds his hand out to me. “Ready to face a festival, Cresta?”</p><p>“Ready as I’ll ever be, Odair,” I reply, pulling myself up.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>          </p><p>“Why is your hair so <em>long</em>?” Finnick asks me as he helps to braid back the top of my hair, leaving the bottom down. It surprises me that he knows how to braid, but on the other hand he’s an expert at knots, so I feel as though it shouldn’t surprise me.</p><p>“Uh, I don’t know, maybe because I don’t look as good with short hair as you do?” I say, smiling.</p><p>“Oh, so you’re admitting I look good?”</p><p>“No, why would I ever say something like that?”</p><p>“I don’t know, maybe ‘cause it’s true?” He smirks, thinking he won.</p><p>“Careful, Odair, you’re beginning to sound like Chrystan,” I shoot back. Chrystan Overblossom is our District Escort and has bright blue hair that sticks up <em>at least</em> a foot whenever he appears in public. I see the stricken look on his face, “I’m so sorry-I didn’t mean that,” I fumble for words, “You aren’t anything like them, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I cringe inwardly.</p><p>“No-it’s not your fault. You don’t really know what it’s like, but at least you aren’t pretending to understand,” Finnick still looks pained, but he distracts himself with the woven bracelet on my vanity.</p><p>“You still have it,” he says, sounding shocked.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I keep it? It’s better than anything I’ve ever made and it marks the start of our friendship,” I’m hesitant to say the last bit, but I’m reassured as he smiles and puts the bracelet back.</p><p>“Ready to face a festival, Odair?” I ask, repeating what he’d said to me earlier.</p><p>“Ready as I’ll ever be, Cresta,” Finnick says. He puts on a grin and we walk out to the rest of my family.</p><p>“Annie! Can you <em>please </em>braid my hair like that for the next festival?” Lizzy begs me as we walk down the street.</p><p>“Of course, but Finnick here is the expert, so you might have to ask him,” I whisper to her. I laugh to myself as she attaches herself to his side, starting her pleads again.</p><p>“I’m happy for you,” my mom says, joining my side. Lizzy is still plastered to Finnick and Ben hasn’t let go of his rope, attempting to master the knots Finnick showed him.</p><p>“Why?” I ask, confused.</p><p>“Because you have a friend, someone you can talk to.”</p><p>“I have friends and I have Mags,” I say defensively.</p><p>“I know that,” she rolls her eyes, “but what you have with him seems different. He gets you,” she pokes my heart, “and you get him. Don’t get mad at me, I’m just telling you what I see.”</p><p>I see no point in arguing with her, so I stay silent. We arrive at the festival a couple minutes later, and even though I’ve attended it every year of my life, it still takes my breath away. The festival is a 3-day celebration for the beginning of summer, which is one of District Four’s most productive seasons.</p><p>Soft lights are hung up between buildings and all sorts of music is drifting in the air. In the town center, the houses and stalls are very close together, but it doesn’t feel claustrophobic. There are so many different alley-ways and streets that I could never memorize, even if I tried. I can smell the scent of fish being grilled and fresh bread as it’s being pulled from the oven. The entirety of District Four has turned out their pockets and opened their doors to each other. Even though the Capitol tries to show off their wealth and prestige, I think that somehow we got the better end of the deal, because the Capitol can’t even come close to creating this sense of community and kindness.</p><p>“I haven’t been to one of these in ages,” Finnick’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I turn to him, surprised.</p><p>“Really? I would have though the mayor would have been flaunting you around,” I say, handing him a plate.</p><p>“We-um, kind of have an unspoken agreement that any time I spent in District Four is my own time. Besides, I have Mags,” he spears a piece of fish for me and plops it on my plate. In return, I place a skewer of grilled vegetables on his.</p><p>“Oh! We should have invited Mags to come along,” I say, feeling stupid that we forgot to ask.</p><p>“Like she really would have enjoyed being here?” he says, speaking the truth.</p><p>“I mean, I can’t really argue with that. Other than the food, and maybe the dance, I don’t really understand why I want to be here either,” I grin as we arrive at a table pilled with fresh bread.</p><p>“Then let’s leave. Your mom can look after the kids for tonight and we can escape the crowd,” Finnick says earnestly. I must look like I’m about to protest because he walks over to my mom, telling her our plan. He saunters back over to me, “We now have official permission from your mother, so let’s get the hell out of here and enjoy this food on the beach!”</p><p>Sighing, I reply, “Fine, but let’s grab an extra plate for dessert.” Finnick does, somehow managing to balance two plates, napkins, and his own water glass within the bustling crowd around him. We break through on the edge of town and run to the beach.</p><p>“I don’t suppose either of us had the brilliant idea to bring a blanket to sit on?” I ask, already preparing myself for all the sand that would find it’s way onto our plates and in our clothes.</p><p>“No, but I do have a sweater,” Finnick grins, laying out said sweater.</p><p>“I’m so sorry we have to keep using your sweaters,” I say, covering my face with my hands.</p><p>“It’s fine! I already have too many, the stylists are always giving me new ones, even if they prefer more skin to be showing,” Finnick says sheepishly. We eat in silence for a while and we watch as the sun begins its slow decent down the sky.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the last chapter that I have finished, so the next one might be a day or two. Once again, thank you if you’re reading this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this chapter is kinda short, but I’m really proud of it, so I hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We should go back soon,” Annie says quietly.</p><p>“Do we <em>really </em>have to go?” I whine, rolling onto my back. “We still have dessert to eat and your mom can look after the kids for a bit. She might have even taken them home by now.”</p><p>“Well,” she bites her lip, “I guess we could stay a little longer.” She sets a plate on the ground between us and lays down.</p><p>“Here,” I say, pulling out a bottle of liquor.</p><p>“No. We’re underage—at least, I am. Besides,” she wrinkles her nose, “what do you even like about it?”</p><p>“Ohhh, so you have had a taste,” I tease, taking a sip.</p><p>She fumbles for words, flustered. “Well-it was only one time. Only once! I’ve learned from it, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”</p><p>“Sadly, it seems as though singular mistakes can rule our lives forever,” the words slip out before I can stop them. “Shit. I’m sorry—I don’t know why I said that.” In truth, I do know why I said it. Because around Annie I feel relaxed. Calm. Able to be myself and not monitor every move and word and thought that goes through my head.</p><p>Annie gives me a thoughtful look. “It’s alright. I don’t know what you’ve had to go through during the Games,” she takes my hand, squeezing it. “And it can’t possibly help to be reminded of it every year.”</p><p>Her words are just another reminder of my upcoming job. Mentoring two kids barely younger than me, and watching them die. Even if they manage to make it out alive, their lives will never be the same—and not for the better. Now that I have Annie, a friend who I enjoy spending time with, I’m dreading going back to the Capitol even more than usual.</p><p>“You can talk to me. I know I don’t understand, but I want to be there for you. That’s what friends are for, right, Odair?” Annie says, giving me a reassuring smile.</p><p>“Right, Cresta,” I smile, taking another sip and holding the bottle out. “You sure you don’t want any?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sure!” Annie snaps, “Now please tell me what’s bothering you. I know that we haven’t been friends long, but I can see you’re not yourself. Please stop reverting to your Capitol self when you don’t want to talk about something. Either shut up and let me eat my dessert in peace, or tell me why you’re getting yourself drunk!” she yells at me. I close my eyes and lean back.</p><p>“If you really want me to tell you, then I might need more of this,” I hold up the bottle.</p><p>“I think you’ll survive.”</p><p>And so I tell her. I explain the fact that our dear President Snow sells the bodies of Victors deemed “desirable”. I tell her that on the day of my sixteenth birthday, celebrated in the Capitol, he introduced me to my first clients and whispered a threat in my ear as he closed the door. I tell her the raw truth, that he murdered my entire family and made it out to be an “accident”.</p><p>“Could I have a sip of that?” Annie interrupts politely. I hand over the bottle and continue on. I see tear drops fall into the sand and taste salt on my lips as I tell Annie how scared I was to let Mags get close. I know that she is another Victor, but she’s old, so it would be easy for Snow to poison her and claim it was a heart attack. I tell her that I’ve stopped asking for money—that I ask for secrets from my clients. I tell her that I memorize every single one, even if it’s just gossip.</p><p>“Oh my god,” she mumbles as I tell her about the worst nights—the ones where I wrote out the secrets on my skin. I tell her about being a mentor to all these <em>children. </em>How blind they are to the awfulness or how they’re already set on their own death in that arena. I keep drinking, pushing myself past my limit, but I haven’t told anyone in so long. I have to get it off my shoulders, even though my groggy mind is telling me that I’m signing Annie’s death certificate. My shoulders stark shaking and I can’t keep my hands steady when I tell her about the letter from Snow—and how it’s all my fault that Percy died. That by being my friend, by being close to me, Annie is getting a target put on her back.</p><p>We lay on the beach for awhile after I finish talking, long after the sun has sunk into the horizon. I know that in the morning I’ll have an awful headache, but for now, all I can feel is the blessed numbness the alcohol gives me.</p><p>“I never knew,” Annie says softly. She looks over to me, and there’s something in her eyes. It’s not pity, it’s hatred. Annie Cresta, who never holds a grudge, is currently sitting across me with pure fire and rage in her eyes.</p><p>“It’s not all their fault, I let them use me like a puppet.”</p><p>“No!” She yanks my wrist and pulls me towards her. “This is <em>not </em>your fault. You were a child when they started and when you were finally old enough to understand they murdered your family.”</p><p>“They should have just killed me,” I say bluntly. “I should have died in that arena. Then my family would still be alive. You’re going to die and it’s all going to be my fault. Mags is going to die. Percy is already dead. I wish that I were, too. I wish we were all dead, that way Snow can’t hurt us and he can’t <em>use </em>me.”</p><p>“Stop blaming yourself,” her voice softens, “I chose this. I chose to be your friend.”</p><p>“That was before you knew that I’m a prostitute and my family is dead because of me.”</p><p>“But right now, I <em>choose </em>you. I choose to be your friend. I know you think you’ve painted a target on my back, but you didn’t. <em>I did. </em>I am putting a target on my back because I choose you.” She looks a little flustered, like she didn’t expect all those words to come out.</p><p>“So you forgive me?”</p><p>“There was never anything that needed to be forgiven.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I wake up to a throbbing headache. Moaning, I stretch my arms out and—touch someone? My entire body goes rigid. <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>I use Mags’ technique to help bring myself back into reality. I’m not in a Capitol bed. I’m in District Four. That is not one of my clients. That is Annie Cresta.</p><p>“Finnick? Finnick, wake up. We fell asleep on the beach,” Annie shakes me and I open my eyes.</p><p>“I’m awake, I’m awake,” I mumble.</p><p>“You’re awake, but you’re not much else,” Annie says, laughing at my pained expression. “I’m going to have to drag you back home.”</p><p>“It’s not that bad,” I attempt to say, but as I try standing up I have to fight a wave of nausea and lightheadedness that makes me sit back down.</p><p>“Um, yeah, it is,” she giggles, holding out her hand to me. Slowly, I nurse my muscles to move, and I stand up. My brain reprocesses my surroundings and I have a sudden urge to throw up.</p><p>“Do you—?” I don’t finish the sentence because she is already nodding.</p><p>“Yes, and I still choose us,” Annie says, her face filling up with a smile. “Besides, we have bigger things to worry about.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Getting you home.”</p><p>After a couple failed attempts, we manage to figure out a way to get me standing and start making progress along the beach. Both of us are too tired to make any attempts at a conversation, so we finish our walk to Mags’ house in silence.</p><p>When we finally reach her front porch after what felt like ages, I try to make my mouth form words. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, you’re not, you’re just drunk,” Annie says, pushing me into the house. I immediately collapse onto the sofa, my eyes drooping closed. Before I drift off, I hear some of a conversation between Annie and Mags.</p><p>“Stay,” Mags says, probably pointing to the guest room upstairs. Annie must finally be feeling the magnitude of last night and the remaining effects of the alcohol.</p><p>“He told me, you know. About all of it. It-it’s so <em>awful,</em>” she says. Mags moves across the kitchen to encase her within her arms, as Annie is racked with sobs. Mags makes comforting noises and I let myself get pulled away into my sleep.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He told me, you know. About all of it,” my voice breaks, “It-it’s so <em>awful,”</em> the words barely escape my lips before Mags is hugging me. Out of everyone in the world, Mags gives the best hugs. I’m shaking and sobbing, but her comforting arms are all I need to tell me that everything will be okay. I don’t know how long we stand there, but after awhile Mags points me upstairs and promises she’ll call my mom. <em>Thanks, </em>I mouth, noticing that Finnick had fallen asleep. In the upstairs guest bedroom, I find a soft nightgown in the dresser and pull it on. I open the windows and let the waves sing me into a deep sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Finnick says, poking me. I curl myself away from him and pull the blankets closer.</p><p>“What time is it?” I mumble, squinting my eyes at the sunshine pouring in through the window.</p><p>“Time to get up.”</p><p>“You know, you’re really helpful sometimes,” I say as I sit up.</p><p>“Thanks! I try my best,” he hands me a pile of clean clothes.</p><p>“How do you have so much energy?” I moan, standing up.</p><p>“I think I’ve had at least 3 cups of coffee.”</p><p>“Eww,” I say, scrunching up my nose. “How do you even like that stuff?” My eyes dart up to Finnick. He probably started drinking it to stay alert the mornings after he had gotten drunk to feel numb. He sees the look I give him.</p><p>“It’s okay.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Shhh,” Finnick places a hand over my mouth. “Let’s go get breakfast.”</p><p>He closes the door behind him and I pull on the clothes. They must be Mags’, because they’re a little small and smell a little musty. I don’t mind, though, because the skirt is soft and worn—just like Mags—and the blouse is the color of the ocean. I walk down the creaky stairs, stifling a yawn, and smell fresh pancakes and bacon.</p><p>“That smells good,” I say, stealing a piece of bacon from the pan. Mags gives me a disapproving look, but I twirl towards the kitchen table. Finnick is leaning on the counter, holding a cup of coffee.</p><p>“What day is it?” I ask, realizing that it’s morning. “How long did I sleep?” I’d dragged Finnick here in the morning, but I couldn’t possible have slept for an entire day.</p><p>Finnick practically reads my mind, “Yes, you slept for a day. You looked so peaceful, neither one of us wanted to wake you up. Today’s Reaping Day, so we couldn’t let you be Sleeping Beauty forever.”</p><p>A small, “Oh!”, escapes my lips. Today can’t be Reaping Day, it couldn’t have crept up on my that fast. Usually I count the days, but I’ve been so distracted that I forgot. “I should go home, to get ready,” I say, starting to stand up.</p><p>“No, stay. You can wear that and we’ll meet up with your family when we get there. Please?” Finnick smiles, but the look in his eye is almost pleading. He isn’t just asking me to stay for breakfast, he’s asking me to remember the promise we made. <em>I choose us. </em>He wants me to stay, to help give him a sense of normalcy before the reaping.</p><p>My smile is small. “I’ll stay.” We eat a delicious meal, courtesy of Mags, and chatter over our plates. It feels normal, but I know that this was just the beginning of a storm.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Mags!” I shriek, my voice ripping through my throat. I run to the stage, knowing I’ll get pushed away, <em>but I have to try and get to her. </em></p><p>Peacekeepers form a line along the bottom of the stage, and I try to get through them, but they shove me away harshly.</p><p>“Please,” I beg, my voice shaking. “Please let me go to her,” my voice cracks. <em>No, I can’t cry. </em>I have to stay strong. Gentle arms pull me back. <em>Mom. </em></p><p>“There’s nothing we can do, you’ll just make a scene. She’ll be okay,” Mom whispers into my ear as we walk away. I know that she’ll be okay, because she has to be. Because if Mags isn’t okay then I’m not okay. Mom murmurs against me, “Finnick is there for her, he’ll make sure she’s looked after.” We make it back to Lizzy and Ben, who’s eyes are wide with fear. I pull them close to me and whisper reassurances into their ears, just as Mom had done for me minutes earlier. After they’ve calmed down a bit, I pull Mom to the side.</p><p>“What happened?” I whisper urgently. I had been getting my finger pricked to check-in. My eyes were shut tight because of my fear of needles, and when I opened them Mags was on the ground.</p><p>Before she gets a chance to respond, Finnick answers, appearing out of nowhere.</p><p>“She slipped,” he says, his voice empty. “There was water on the stage and she slipped. They’re taking her to the hospital, but they said she probably just hurt her wrist. She’s gonna be okay.” He says the last part softly, more for himself than us, but I still say the words to myself. <em>She’s going to be okay. Mags is going to be okay. </em></p><p>“Can I talk to Annie for a minute?” Finnick asks. Mom nods her head, and Finnick pulls me away. “Promise me,” he closes his eyes for a second, “Promise me that you’ll look after her. That you or someone you trust will always be with her. Please.” He voice is shaking and he looks so lost. As much as Mags means to me, she’s Finnick’s everything. She is his entire family and I can see that he would break if he lost her.</p><p>“I promise,” I say, taking his hands. “I’ll stay at her house until you get home. Even if she tells me that she’s okay, I won’t leave her side. I‘Ll bring Lizzy and Ben over to her house and she can help me look after them.” Finnick has turned his face away and I pull his chin towards me. “Look at me. You’re going to be okay. Mags is going to make it and I won’t let her out of my sight. Remember, I choose us.” Around us, people are starting to get more organized as the mayor calls for order. I reach my hand up and touch his arm, revealing to him that I’ve been wearing the woven bracelet he made me. I quickly kiss him on the cheek and dash back over to the check-in station, weaving through the crowd.</p><p>Once everything is settled, the mayor begins his regular speech. It hasn’t changed in my entire life. I tune it out as usual, and fiddle with my bracelet. Heat blooms on my cheeks. <em>Why did I kiss him? He probably just thinks of me as a friend. Why did I do that? </em>Chrystan Overblossom, dressed from head-to toe in neon green ruffles (with matching hair), has started speaking, so I push away my thoughts.</p><p>“-the odd be ever in your favor! Ladies, first!” He finishes speaking, and the familiar chant begins in my mind.<em>Please don’t be me. Please. Please don’t be me. There’s only two more. Please don’t be me. Please—. </em>I don’t get a chance to finish because he’s calling out the name.</p><p>“Carrie Hensley! Come up here, don’t be scared.” The girl looks to be about a year or two younger than me, and she looks terrified, but set on her fate. She’s not going to die like a coward—she’s going to fight. After years of watching fellow classmates and complete strangers get chosen, I have figured out a way to tell whether or not they’ll fight. When Chrystan calls the boy, I can see he’s going to die very early on. It looks like it’s his first reaping, and he quivering all over. Chrystan goes to hold his hand, and he visibly blanches.</p><p>I know that it’s awful, that I should at least learn the boy’s name, but as soon as the reaping is over, my mind goes back to Mags. Somewhere in my subconscious I know that these kids will be dead within a week, but all I can think of is Mags. Peacekeepers escort the tributes from the stage and into the Justice Building—where their families will give their last goodbyes. Even if by some miracle one of the makes it out alive, they will not be the same person they were when they entered the arena.</p><p>“Annie, it’s time to go,” my mom’s soft voice enters my thoughts, and I turn, not realizing I had been frozen in place.</p><p>“Mags,” is the only word my lips can form and we go straight to her house. We don’t have a way to get to the hospital, so my mom leaves me waiting at her house, and takes Lizzy and Ben back home. I hear her say something about bringing over dinner, but I barely process it. All I can think about is Mags. Logically, I know that there is no way I can be with her right now, but all I can think about is that I’ve already broken my promise to Finnick because I’m not at the hospital with her.</p><p>I clean up the dishes from breakfast, and dust every shelf in the house. I look through her pantry and start baking muffins—blueberry, Mags’ and Finnick’s favorite. I love them too, but my favorite part is making them. I have the recipe memorized because it was my father who taught me. <em>Flour, blueberries, sugar, salt, butter, milk, eggs, baking powder, vanilla. </em>I chant the ingredients to myself, humming one of my father’s favorite songs.</p><p>After what seems like forever, the ambulance quietly pulls up to the house. It’s dark outside, so when they help her out, I notice the brilliant white cast on her arm.</p><p>“Is she okay? What do I need to do for her?” Taking Mags’ arm, I lead her to the house, pestering the doctor with questions. He looks at me doubtfully, but answers them.</p><p>“She’ll be fine, she needs to keep the cast on for a couple weeks, but nothing else was hurt,” he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “We’ll leave a bottle of pain mediation and she might be a little tired tomorrow, but just make sure she keeps eating healthy and getting good proteins.” Looking at his watch, he moves to the door.</p><p>“Thank you,” I say responsively, the words drilled into me by my mom. The doctor just waves, and I lead Mags the rest of the way upstairs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I hope that you liked this chapter, I’m probably going to ignore school for the weekend so I might post a couple more chapters over the next few days. I know I’ve already said this a lot, but thank you so much if you’re reading this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>She’s going to be okay. Mags is okay. She’s going to be okay. Annie’s looking after her. </em>I repeat these words over and over in my head as we board the train. I look for Annie in the crowd, but she must have left already. I’m surprised to feel my shoulders drop in disappointment. I shake my head to clear the though and enter the lounge car.</p><p>“Are you excited? This is a <em>very </em>big opportunity for the both of you,” Chrystan’s rambling are cut off when Lucy, an older victor, walks in.</p><p>She gives me a sad smile. “I heard about Mags. I’m sorry, I know you two work well together, but since Mags got hurt, they thought that I would be able to help. Angelina was drunk and Madeline isn’t ready, so—I guess you’re stuck with me.”</p><p>I paste on a smile, giving her a hug. “And why is that a bad thing?” We sit down on this sofa, across from the two tributes. Carrie Hensley and Brady Miller. I keep their names in the back of my mind, so that they’ll never be forgotten.</p><p>“How old are you two?” I ask, trying to distract them. The girl responds immediately.</p><p>“I’m 15, turning 16 next month,” she says proudly. The boy, Brady, is more hesitant.</p><p>“I’m 12,” he mumbles quietly. I exchange a look with Lucy. The boy is so young and the girl’s birthday is next month. I already know that they won’t make it very far, but I push those thoughts away because that’s not what they need right now.</p><p>“Okay! So, we need to talk about strategy. Yes, your strength and abilities are important, but you also have to play to the audience. Now, for you, Brady, do you have any siblings?” I say confidently, trying to distract these kids. Lucy takes Carrie into another room and we continue talking until dinner is served.</p><p>“Eat up, you’ll need all the strength you can get!” Lucy says encouragingly. The meal is cleared away and the two tributes go to their compartments to try and get some rest. We still have a couple days of training, but I know they’ll barely be able to get any sleep. I stay in the dining car, trying to figure out a way to present Carrie and Brady to the Capitol. I don’t realize how late it is until Lucy is shaking my arm.</p><p>“Go to bed, Finnick. You look like you need it even more than the kids,” Lucy murmurs, helping me to my room. I oblige, not knowing what else to do. Her gentle demeanor reminds me so much of Mags, that I give her a hug, foolishly wishing that she was Mags. I try to fall asleep, but images of Mags—dead, drowning, murdered—fill my head. I give up after a while and just lay there. I imagine Annie, playing with Lizzy and Ben in the ocean. The light from the sunset catches her hair, and it’s gleaming hazel and copper and honey. She catches my eyes and I see the reflection of the sun, gold against her sea-blue eyes. With the image of her eyes in my mind, I finally drift off into a hazy sleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>           </p><p>We arrive in the Capitol the next morning and I remind Brady to smile. “We’ll try to show that you’re nervous to be in the games, since you’re so young, but that you are excited to have a chance to prove yourself. During the interview, we’ll make sure to mention your family—that you have a little sister to go back to,” I whisper into his ear. <em>Smile. </em>I have to remind myself as the cameras flash in our faces. We get into the elevator that takes us to their prep teams, and I see the looks Brady and Carrie exchange. The Capitol is bursting with luxuries beyond their wildest dreams. We’re pretty well-off in District Four, but the same does not go for other Districts. We step out, Carrie and Brady immediately getting rushed away by their prep teams.</p><p>“Mr. Odair, there is a phone call for you. You may pick it up in your apartment,” a Peacekeeper says, directing me back towards the elevator. I get a nod from Lucy that reassures me that she’ll handle the prep for the Chariot Ride. I ride the elevator upwards and enter my apartment. There’s a letter sitting on my bed. I nod at the Peacekeeper and pick up the phone. They close the door behind them as I wait.</p><p>“Hello? Is anyone there?” I ask, desperately hoping that it’s not Snow. I pick up the pristine white letter and turn it over. <em>President Snow. </em>Of course he would leave me a lovely welcoming card. I roll my eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Mr. Odair, below is the list of clients who will be expecting your full attention at the expected time. I’m sending well-wishes for your dear Mags, her injury is a tragic mistake. </em>
</p><p>“Finnick?” Annie says, her voice catching my attention.</p><p>“Annie? Annie it’s me. Is Mags okay? How is she?” I say, hearing Annie give a little laugh. Her laugh is so delicate, so gentle. It’s like soft chimes. Her laugh makes me want to laugh and I feel a real smile tugging on my lips.</p><p>“She’s doing great! She already hates that I’m taking care of her, but I haven’t left her side. Mom is taking Lizzy and Ben out on the boat tomorrow, and they begged me to come, but I’m keeping my promise and staying with Mags.” Annie says something else, but I don’t catch it. I’m too busy reading the rest of the letter.</p><p>
  <em>I hope that you remember what Ms. Cresta chose because of you, and in the future remember to keep our little secret. It is with sincerity that I wish that the events soon-to-come will help you with remembering, and help Ms. Cresta with her decisions. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            President Snow</em>
</p><p>“Finnick? Are you there?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m still here,” the clear message in the letter hits me with a sudden urgency. “Annie? Annie don’t—,” My voice is cut off and the line goes dead. I hear someone pick it up, but I know it won’t be Annie.  </p><p>President Snow’s chilling voice greets me. “Hello, Mr. Odair. I see that you were able to check up on Mags. I hope that her injury won’t distract you during the games or with clients, we both know I would be very disappointed if that happened. I hope that next time you see your Ms. Cresta you will give her my best wishes.” The line goes dead a second time. I look at the letter, this time examining the list of clients. Miriam Pierce. 7 o’clock. I still have the entire afternoon. An entire afternoon that I have to spend with two kids who will be dead soon. Usually I’m able to play up my encouragement because they need somebody to believe in them. But I don’t care. I can’t find it in my to even pretend I care about them. All I care about is Annie and Mags, and I have a feeling that someone is going to be dead by the time I get home.</p><p>I hear a soft knock on the door. “Finnick? Finnick, it’s time to get ready,” Lucy opens the door, letting my prep team file in. I don’t even know why they’re here, I’m not the one on the chariot, but I guess the Capitol’s Finnick Odair has to be perfect—even if he’s in the audience. Or Ms. Miriam Pierce payed extra to make me pretty.</p><p>The rest of the week goes by in a blur, and I drink more than I should. During the nights, I take glass after glass when I’m with my clients, letting them do whatever they want to me while I stay numb. Bruises form all over my body, but my prep team covers them up with makeup. Somewhere in my fever dream state I process the secrets they give me, but I no longer see reason for keeping them. During the days I drink gallons of coffee to attempt to help Brady stay alive. During dinner the night they entered the Arena, I process that we have two new Avoxes. They look exactly like Lizzy and Ben. But I know that they aren’t Lizzy and Ben because they’re dead. Through the Avoxes, Snow is sending me a direct message telling me that he murdered Annie’s family. And left Annie alive. Because that’s what Snow does. He destroys everything you care about, but leaves you alive, begging to be dead with them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m sorry that this chapter is so short, the next couple are and they aren’t my best writing, but bear with me. I’ve written multiple more chapters and I’m starting to like where things are going. Thank you if you’re reading this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this chapter is short again! I might post another chapter today and thank you (again) if you’re reading this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Annie don’t—” Finnick’s voice is cut off and the line goes dead. <em>Annie don’t what? </em>Don’t leave Mags alone? Dread fills my stomach. <em>What did he mean? </em>Fear of what he was warning me about consumes me and I sprint down the stairs to Mags.</p><p>“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she says, pushing away my help. “My arm is broken, but nothing else.”</p><p>“Yes, but—” a glare from Mags cuts me off. I don’t tell her about the promise I made Finnick, but after I grab a blanket to lay on the couch, she starts to guess. Mags doesn’t say she knows, but she points me to the guest bedroom and hugs me goodnight.</p><p>I wake up late the next morning. Creeping down the stairs, I try not to disturb Mags. It’s all useless, because she’s sitting at the kitchen table when I come down. She nods her head at the basket sitting on the counter. My mom must have brought over breakfast. I completely forgot that she was going fishing today with Lizzy and Ben. They’re going for a day trip, but they’ll be back in time to have dinner with me and Mags.</p><p>I grab a biscuit and some fruit, pulling out a chair next to Mags. She pours me a cup of tea and I hold it, letting the warmth from the mug pour into me. It’s summer, but I take the warmth as a feeling of comfort and the mug in my hands as a feeling of grounding. I look outside, to the beach, where the sun has already warmed the sand. The ocean seems to glitter because of the light the sun reflects on it.</p><p>“Go,” Mags encourages. I ignore her and start to pack a basket of food.</p><p>“We’re going to go to the beach today,” I announce, smiling at Mags. She smiles back, but I can see she’s only coming because I want her to. I tell her that Finnick called, but I leave out the warning her tried to give me. I say I don’t know why the phone cut off, and push away my growing suspicions that Snow did this.</p><p>We walk down to the beach and I don’t bother with shoes. Later in the day I’ll regret it when the sand burns my feet, but for now it feels good to sink my feet into the soft sand. We lay out a blanket and Mags pulls out a book. The weather is average, it’s not overly hot, but it’s also not too cool. The glittering waves seem to have disappeared, the ocean turned back into an ordinary blue.</p><p>The day slips by in an odd way. I feel as though I’m separated from the rest of the world, and that when we go back to the house, no time will have passed at all. I go swimming for a little bit, but it’s not fun without Finnick splashing me or Lizzy to make sandcastles with or Ben to carry around. I try to read a book, but my eyes refuse to concentrate. Words float across the page, and I slam it on the ground in frustration. I end up laying down next to Mags and letting the crashing of the waves lull me to sleep. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Annie,” Mags says. I stretch my arms and yawn, not bothering to cover my mouth.</p><p>“What?” I say sleepily. Clouds have covered up the sun, but it looks to be about late afternoon. Mom should be coming back soon, but I don’t see any boats on the horizon.</p><p>“Dinner,” she states. Tonight we’re going to eat with my family, and we’ll grill the fresh fish they catch, but before they get back we have to prep the other food.</p><p>Working together in the kitchen, it’s like we have one mind. We each know what the other is doing and we’re able to cook together in perfect harmony. We bake a fresh loaf of bread, grill vegetables, squeeze fresh lemonade, and bake cookies. Fresh lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. I smile to myself. Lizzy and Ben’s favorites.</p><p>“Where are they?” I ask Mags, my voice more desperate than I would like it to be. She puts her hand over mine.</p><p>“They’ll come, give it time.”</p><p>“You don’t think—? Nothing could have happened, right?” I ask, knowing that Mags knows no more than I do.</p><p>We wait. And wait. And wait. I start baking more blueberry muffins until I have to stop because I’ve run out of blueberries. I bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed. I pick at my fingers until Mags pulls my hands away, holding them close to herself. We wait on the couch and the stars come out. No sign of them. Mags pulls out blankets and pillows, laying them on the floor. She pats them, gently pushing me down. We lay there, waiting. I feel Mags brush my hair and hold me close to her, but she doesn’t whisper reassurances because they’d all be lies. I don’t know when, but eventually I drift off to sleep.</p><p>I wake up sometime in the early morning. Mags still has her arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace, so I stay still. Through the glass windows I see flashlights at the docks.</p><p>“Mags. Mags, please wake up, we have to go. We have to go to the docks,” I beg, not caring how weak I sound. I’m still in my tank-top and shorts, so Mags gives me a sweater to wear. It’s Finnick’s. I close my eyes, breathing in his scent. When I open my eyes again, reality waits, so I hold onto Mags’ hand like a lifeline as we walk to the docks.</p><p>There’s a crowd of people covering something charred. It smells awful, like chemicals and wood and fire. I can’t see what it is, but I can guess. I don’t want to though, so I push through the crowd.</p><p>They part like water. Every single one of them has a pained look in their face. Some are even holding their own children, tears running down their cheeks. I feel numb.</p><p>The boat is ours. I know because the only bit of the boat not burnt to a crisp is the name. The handwriting is messy because Lizzy painted it when she was little. <em>The Sailfish. </em>It was named after my dad, because he was such a fast swimmer. The sailfish is said to be the fastest sea creature, so it fit. Words are said to me, but I don’t hear them. I only comprehend that Mom and Lizzy and Ben aren’t there. I run to our house, knowing that they won’t be there, but hoping with all my heart that they are.</p><p>They aren’t. I collapse onto the kitchen floor, holding one of the stupid shell necklaces that Lizzy made me. The one that I said I loved.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper, curling into myself. After a while, I hear the front door open. Mags. She kneels down next to me and hugs me. I turn to her, grasping her arms so tightly that I know I’ll leave bruises.</p><p>“Where are they?! Where’s Mom? Where’s Lizzy and Ben? Where—,” I can’t finish the sentence because my voice breaks. I fall into Mags, letting her be the only thing keeping me from breaking. But she’s not. I remember Finnick and the promise I made him. <em>I choose us. </em>Did I choose Finnick over my family? <em>No! </em>I scream internally. That’s exactly what Snow wants me to think. And I won’t let him. I take and deep breath and dry my tears. I won’t let Snow break me. I won’t let him corrupt Finnick and me because I made a choice. It’s nobody’s fault but Snow’s. And I won’t give him the pleasure of ripping me and Finnick apart.</p><p>I cry only once after I saw the burned boat. After Mags helped me move into her house. I saw the cookies and the lemonade. And all I could think about was that I would never see my baby brother or my little sister ever again. That they would never grow up. That my mom would never be a grandmother. That I would never see Lizzy in her wedding dress or Ben walking me down the aisle in my wedding dress.</p><p>The tears pour down my cheeks all through the night until I have nothing left. Mags never lets go of me, grounding me—keeping me from going to my family. Somehow I find it in me to sit up and wipe away my tears.</p><p><em>I won’t let him break me. </em>I make myself stay strong. I don’t cry at their funeral and I don’t cry when we put the charred remains of the boat in the ground.</p><p><em>I won’t let him break me. </em>I surprise myself by feeling no hatred towards Snow. I feel anger that there’s nothing to bury and that they couldn’t even find burned parts of their bodies, but the fury burning in me when Finnick told me what Snow does to him is gone. I don’t feel anything but pity towards him. Pity towards a man who is so corrupted that he makes children kill each other every year. That he <em>enjoys </em>it. That he sells the bodies of teenagers. That he murders entire families just to make a point. <em>No, not entire families. </em>That would be too kind. He murders everyone but you.</p><p><em>I won’t let him break me. </em>I know that Snow wants me to break. To fall apart. To kill myself and show the tragic aftermath of being the only family member alive. But I won’t give him that satisfaction.</p><p><em>I won’t let him break me. </em>I won’t break into a million pieces so small that nobody could put me back together. I won’t let him break my heart like glass—shards cutting into anyone who gets too close.</p><p>I fall asleep each night with those words in my head, chanting a rhythm with my pulse.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The only thing I remember from the day I arrived back in District Four is the lecture I get from Mags. She starts yelling halfway through, but once she sees the empty look in my eyes she pulls me tight into her arms. I feel my legs shaking underneath me, but I manage to stay standing. Annie walks into the kitchen, and she looks awful.</p><p>“Hi,” I hear Annie say, but all her usual cheerfulness is gone.</p><p>“Hi? That’s the best you’ve got?” I ask, trying to bring a smile to her face. I fail, but I give her a hug. She hugs me back, and we walk into the family room. On the floor, Mags has blankets and pillows laid out. Annie and I lay down, like dolls forgotten on the floor. We drift in and out of sleep for days.</p><p>Mags feeds us and we eat like robots before falling back into a land of nightmares and the blissful numbness that comes with uninterrupted sleep. We must seem like children to her. We were the ones who were supposed to be taking care of her. After almost of week of this, Mags is done with us. We wake up to her throwing open all the shades, letting bright sunshine flood the room.</p><p>“Get up, get up. You smell,” she points to me. “And you need to wash your face,” she points to Annie. “I don’t want to see either of you until you’re clean, and then we’re going to the beach.”</p><p>We walk upstairs, still somewhat in our lucid slumber. I smile sheepishly, “No arguing with Mags, right?” Annie gives me a small smile. I take this as progress, and step into one of the guest bedrooms that adjoins the bathroom. “Is it okay if I stay here while you shower?” I ask.</p><p>Annie nods, stepping back into the hallway to grab towels. Mags laid out fresh clothes on the bed. Annie takes a long shower, but I don’t mind. I sit on the floor and look out the large windows, imagining myself out on the sea. I can practically smell the fresh, salty, air on my face. The wind is blowing my hair, and I can taste the ocean spray on my lips.</p><p>“Your turn,” Annie says, pulling me up and pushing me into the bathroom. Her shower seems to have given her more energy, but I’m still drained. I lean into her a little, smelling the conditioner from her hair. I take a quick shower—there’s not much hot water left, but I don’t complain. I wash away the layers of makeup still left on me, revealing bruises all over my body. Fingerprints wrap around my neck and thighs, and bruises left from bed frames, tables, and doorways cover my stomach and back. I try to ignore them, but it hurts to move. I think that I’ll be able to get away with it if I’m careful with the clothes I wear, until I realize I didn’t bring my clothes into the bathroom with me. I knock on the inside of the bathroom door.</p><p>“Annie? I left my clothes out there,” I hear shuffling.</p><p>“Do you want to come grab them? Or are you—?“</p><p>“No,” I cut her off. “I’ll put on a robe.” I grab a soft robe from the door and adjust it around my neck, making sure that it covers all my bruises. I’ve stayed at Mags’ house enough times that she has extra clothes for me and a bathrobe for the days clothes hurt my skin too much. It’s big on me—I’ve lost some weight over the last couple months.</p><p>“Hey,” she says quietly as I come out. “Here you go,” she hands me a folded pile of clothes.</p><p>“Thanks,” I murmur, walking back into the bathroom.</p><p>“Finnick?” Annie’s voice sounds shaky. “Finnick, what’s on your back?” <em>Shit. </em>My robe must have slipped.</p><p>“Uhh,” my mind goes blank. “Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Don’t lie to me! Go get dressed and come show me what’s on your back.”</p><p>Her command has a similar effect as Mags’ words. I don’t bother arranging my shirt to cover all the bruises, she’ll put the pieces together quickly enough. I walk out quickly, hoping that it will be like pulling a band-aid off. Don’t do it slowly, it will just cause more pain.</p><p>Annie’s eyes widen as they take in my neck and the bits of my stomach that she can see through the light linen shirt. She pats the bed beside her. I oblige, sitting down. Annie pulls my shirt over my head, revealing almost all my bruises.</p><p>“Finnick,” she breathes. Her light fingers run all over my back, lingering on the bruises that I can only imagine are ugly—purple and yellow and black and blue. I turn to face her, meeting her eyes.</p><p>“Yeah?” I whisper, turning to face her. She takes in the rest of the bruises, the fingerprints on my neck and the lines of blue on my stomach. Her hands are so soft, and after running over my skin, they rest on my neck. I pull them into mine, holding them close to my heart.</p><p>“Finnick,” Annie says, her voice breaking. I pull her close to me and she falls into me, our bodies molding around each other. She looks into my eyes, asking permission. I lean down and kiss her, my lips light against hers. I pull back, but she reaches her hand up into my hair and pulls me closer. We kiss each other again, and her lips are soft against mine.</p><p>“Mags is waiting for us,” Annie says, standing up. She seems to have realized what just happened, and her eyes are wide.</p><p>“Mmhmm,” I mumble halfheartedly. Annie drags me up.</p><p>“Come on,” she pulls me out the door, but Mags is standing in the hall. Her eyes ask us what took us so long, but she just pulls us into a tight hug. After she releases us, we move towards the stairwell, but Mags puts her hand up, stopping me. She nods to Annie to keep going, and pulls me back into the bedroom.</p><p>“Is everything okay, Mags?” I say gently, looking into her eyes. She nods and looks out the window, a thoughtful look on her face. After a minute, she turns to look at me.</p><p>“Don’t hurt her, my boy,” Mags says, grabbing my chin with her hand. I don’t have to ask her what she’s talking about. I don’t cry often, but tears start to fall down my cheeks.</p><p>“Haven’t I already?” I whisper, pushing away her attempt to embrace me. “Haven’t I already killed her family? When will it be her? Or will it be me? How is Snow going to use us against each other to play his own game?” My voice is rising, thick with tears. Mags reaches up and tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear. She gives me a sad smile.</p><p>“She’s a fighter. You know she won’t let you go, like sand through her fingers. She’s going to fight, even if it’s the end of her,” I can barely make out Mags’ words, but they echo clearly in my head.</p><p>Annie isn’t going to let me push her way. I’m the reason her entire family is dead, but she’s still here. I’ve chosen her, and as much as it scares me—it sparks hope inside of me. Annie is something that Snow can’t take away from me. <em>Almost an entire family dying? </em>Tragic. <em>The last remaining Cresta dead? </em>Too tragic. Snow can’t kill her, it would become suspicious. Now Annie is the one thing I have that the Capitol can’t touch.</p><p>Oh, if only I knew how wrong I was.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After I dry my tears, we go downstairs and fill up a basket to bring with us. Mags marches us down to the beach and lays out a blanket. The day is just as dull as I feel. The waves aren’t sparkling, and the sun is beating and hot. The sand is harsh against my skin, and the sky is a bleary blueish gray. There’s a breeze blowing, but it’s not soft. It whisks up the sand into your face and blows around the blanket. I know that the water will be cold, but I walk into the ocean, sitting fully clothed in the shallows.</p><p>I sit and watch and think. I see the birds as they catch fish, and the dolphins swimming in the distance. On other days, I would be elated to see dolphins this close to shore, but today I feel nothing. Everything I had felt when I was with Annie left me as soon as Mags reminded me how much power Snow has over me. Snow can’t kill her, but my mind is still full of images of Annie.</p><p>Her throat slit, blood coating her white nightgown. Her body drowned in the bathtub, her face purple and bloated. Her body burned, charred to a crisp, unrecognizable. Her body sold, like mine. Bruised and battered and broken. No—not broken. Annie doesn’t break. She gives and gives and gives. Even with her family dead because of me, she found kindness in herself. Her fingers were light on my bruises—she even bothered enough to care about my bruises.</p><p>“Can I sit here?” Annie asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I smile weakly, and she sits down next to me in the waves. The water has numbed me, it’s chill taking away any body heat I had.</p><p>“How did it happen? How did Snow kill them?” I ask Annie and my voice sound strange to my own ears.</p><p>“He burned their boat. They claimed it overheated,” she says, her voice raw. “They said they couldn’t even find their bodies.” Her voice quivers and a single tear falls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away and straightens her shoulder, lifting her chin up. Mags’ words echo through my mind. Annie is a fighter. She isn’t going to let Snow see how much he hurt her.</p><p>We sit there for the entire afternoon, letting the waves wash over us. Trying to let the ocean take away all of our pain. I’ve done it before, after Capitol visits. Soaking in the sunlight, letting the salt water wash away the grip of Capitol hands and the scent of expensive perfume. Annie and I don’t say anything else, and the chasm between us widens.</p><p>The kiss in the bedroom feels like a million years ago. The time to talk slips through our fingers, so I think we’re both pretending that it wasn’t anything. No, not pretending. <em>It wasn’t </em>anything. We’re friends and we got too close, that’s why Snow had to kill Annie’s family. Because I let secrets slip through my lips. Yes, we both craved the sanctuary we had in kissing each other, but that isn’t love. <em>We </em>aren’t in love.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Mags</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know I said that I would write chapters switching between Annie and Finnick, but this chapter really fits in well and I think it works well (with how I wanted to jump a little in time). I also think that Mags is such a wonderful character, so I hope I held true to her in the way I portray her! (As always, thank you for reading!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The evening is slow. Finnick and Annie don’t each much of their dinner until I prod at them, making sure that they eat <em>just one </em>more bite. After a while of them pushing the food around on their plates, I realize they aren’t going to eat any more, no matter my encouraging, I help them get ready for bed.</p><p>Annie had moved into my house after her family was murdered and Finnick moved in after the 69<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games. My house has always felt too big with three bedrooms, so having them helps fill the emptiness. I know there’s not much I can do, but I hate seeing them like this. Both of them are falling apart and I think the only thing keeping them here is the other. Neither of them has a family anymore, except the small one we’ve made. I try to help as best I can, but in the end—only they will be able to hold each other together.</p><p>They can’t see it yet, but I know that they’re falling in love. I’ve seen it happen to countless other Victors, and none of them have ever had a happy ending. I want to hope for them, because that’s why we read fairy tales, isn’t it? Because we hope for that happy ending. Sadly, as much as they deserve it, I have a feeling this world may not grant it to them.</p><p>When Finnick comes down the next morning, there’s a letter waiting on the table for him. His fingers shake as he picks it up, slowly away the seal. I catch a glimpse of it as it falls to the floor, but I already know who it came from. <em>President Snow. </em>I look over to see if Annie saw the seal, but Finnick is reading it aloud.</p><p>“He wants me to go to the Capitol. I’m supposed to stay there for an entire <em>month,” </em>Finnick says in disbelief.</p><p>“No,” I hear Annie murmur. “You won’t survive it!” she protests, covering her mouth immediately. I can see in her eyes how scared she is for him. Finnick looks over at her, and I see his eyes. They’re completely empty, and he already looks like he’s going to give in. I hope that I’m wrong because he is the only Victor I know to fight—not in the Arena, but in his own life. I can see it in him and Annie. They are fighters.</p><p>“Then I guess I’ll just have to prove him wrong.”</p><p>“When do you leave?” I ask, already moving upstairs to pack a bag and give them a moment alone.</p><p>“Tonight,” he sighs, closing his eyes. I’m on the stairs, almost to the top, but I still hear Annie whisper urgently.</p><p>“It’s because we kissed, isn’t it? It’s because we made one mistake, and he’s going to punish you.” I don’t hear Finnick respond, so I know that Annie’s right. “Please just promise me you won’t lose yourself again.”</p><p>“I’ll try not to.”</p><p>I come back down the stairs and give Finnick his frantically packed bag. It doesn’t have much, just some extra clothes and toiletries. He doesn’t have anything to remind him of home, or of us, so I give him a hug and kiss him on the cheek.</p><p>Finnick leaves later that night, and we say our goodbyes at home. We didn’t want to push Snow by being seen in public together. After he leaves, I give Annie a hug, and I don’t let her go for the longest time.</p><p>I try to get Annie to go to bed, but I know it will be hopeless. She’ll just stay up late worrying about Finnick, but at least I can have her worrying in the comfort of her bed. I tuck her in and leave to go to my own bedroom.</p><p>The moon is bright tonight, shining through my curtains, so I open them, letting the moonlight dance across the floor. I say a quick prayer to God, hoping that He can hear me. I ask Him to take care of Finnick. I’ve seen the look in his eyes once before, the first time he came home from the Capitol after his 16<sup>th</sup> birthday. It was the first time President Snow sold his body. I was able to hold him then, whispering in his ear that it will get better and that someday all of these wrongs will be righted.</p><p>When he came home after the Games this year, I could see the same look in his eyes. Annie was able to bring him back, and I can only imagine how bad his bruises were this time. I only hope that he won’t get so lost this time that neither of us will be able to bring him back.</p><p>I sigh to myself, getting up to go downstairs. There’s no way that I will be able to fall asleep tonight. I finally understand why Annie found it so useless to get ready for bed. When I walk into the kitchen, she’s sitting there, slumped on the counter. She jumps a little when I walk in, but doesn’t move otherwise.</p><p>“I couldn’t sleep,” she explains. I nod and go to make us both a cup of tea.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>We spend most of our sleepless nights drinking tea together. The days blend together and Finnick is the only reason why we bother to look at a calendar everyday. Summer bleeds into fall as the tide turns cold. Finnick comes back battered, but not broken.</p><p>I watch as they grow together. Sadly, it’s in a way that they know they’ll always be apart. They go out the beach, even though the cold has started to bite, and sit out for hours at a time. The ocean is harsh, but dependable. They know that the ocean will never take what they love away from them, unlike Snow. Every night, I call them back in and greet them with warm bowls of soup.</p><p>I watch as Finnick is called to the Capitol 3 weeks later and as Annie faces losing him again. Yes, he will come back, but every time he loses a bit more of himself. If I had not faced this before, I would not want to see it, but I’ve watched other Victors as their lives fall apart. For most of them, they turn to drink, letting it take away all their problems. Others turn to drugs, their bodies start to rot faster than their minds.</p><p>I watch as the golden leaves fall from the trees and as frost covers the ground early in the mornings. I start making Annie and Finnick wear more layers when they go out to the beach. I see them continue to grow closer and watch as Snow continues to pull them apart. I know that it is not my place to interfere with whatever Fate has in store, so I just try to ensure that I’m always there to give either one of them a hug.</p><p>Finnick starts getting called to the Capitol more and more frequently as the Victory Tour draws closer. Usually, it is a break from clients for Finnick, but this year it is another reminder of what happened during and after the games. Annie starts to fall apart, but at least I’m able to help her hold herself together. I know that she is strong enough and I try to give her the support she needs. The support that doesn’t show she is too weak to hold herself up, but that she is strong enough to rebuild herself with help.</p><p>Fall turns into winter, the Victory Tour comes and goes. Annie is able to start baking with me on the days she isn’t on the beach with Finnick. She goes back to her old house and cleans it out, keeping only a small box of memories. One day, Annie makes blueberry muffins—and I know how much they remind her of her father. Of the day her family went out on a boat and never came back.</p><p>Annie is starting to get better, but Finnick only gets worse. Even I struggle to watch as he slowly disintegrates, until one day in early-spring, Annie starts helping Finnick put himself together again.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ocean laps at our feet as we sit on the edge of the water. Winter has passed and spring is upon us. On the beach, green grass peeks out of the sand. Crabs have started scurrying back and forth—finally used to us being at the beach. The world feels like it’s finally coming back to life after a bleak winter. Beach roses have started to bloom along the beach, but their colors are pale and faded—not yet vibrant, like they’ll be later in the spring.</p><p>The water is not quite warm enough to swim in, but we can still dip our feet in on the edge of the sand. Finnick came home from a Capitol visit earlier this morning, so I took a break from my baking to come out and sit with him. The frequency of his visits has been slowing down, and I take it for granted—not knowing whether it’s good or bad. I dig my toes into the sand, feeling the tide try to pull me away, and ask the question I say every time he comes home.</p><p>“How bad was it?” I ask, giving him the opportunity to talk, but not pushing it. In response, Finnick pulls down his shirt, revealing his neck and upper chest. They’re covered in bruises, the colors ranging from old yellows to fresh blues. Scabs cover his neck—and they don’t look like they were caused by a client. “Finnick,” I whisper, and it feels like the day he first showed me his bruises.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” is all he can say, but we both know it’s not enough.</p><p>“Why?” I ask, feeling my eyes fill up with tears. It’s not his fault that his body is sold for the amusement of others. None of it is his fault, there’s nothing he should be sorry for. I’m surprised when he answers my question truthfully.</p><p>“Because sometimes I hate myself and the person I am. Because I want to rip off my own skin and shed this stupid Capitol person that I become. Because some nights I don’t know how I am any different from that person,” Finnick says quickly, stopping to take a deep breath. “Be-because some nights I dream that I’m with a client and that they’re strangling me. And then I wake up and it’s my owns hands, scraping my skin raw with my own nails—trying to get out of a nightmare that I’m creating. That-that is my reality.”</p><p>I reach over to him and hold his hands. I don’t think he realized it, but as he was speaking he started to dig his nails into his arms. I want to say something, but I can’t think of anything that isn’t a lie, so I lean my head on his shoulder and continue holding his hands. After a while, the right words form in my mouth.</p><p>“Choose us. Choose me and Mags and our reality. Choose a reality where you can be happy. Where you can wake up and be able to remind yourself that there <em>is </em>a place better than your nightmares. So you can wake up and-and not want to—,” I can’t finish the sentence, but we both know how it ends. <em>So he can wake up and not want to kill himself. </em></p><p>By asking him to choose me, I’m making a selfish decision. He would be planning our own murder. But the words have already left my mouth, and now it’s up to him. I don’t know if he’ll choose me, but I feel a strange sense of peace as he contemplates his answer. I pick up a shell and wipe away the sand, holding it in the water to clean out the inside. It feels like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for Finnick’s answer. Waiting to see what he’ll choose.</p><p>“Yes,” Finnick says, “I choose us.” I can barely hear his answer over the pounding of my pulse or the crashing waves, but in my heart I can hear the words echoing. <em>I choose us. </em>I choose to live in a life where Snow can’t control our decisions. I choose to live in a world where we can hope for change. I choose to live my life on my own terms.</p><p>A hopeful smile grows on my face and for the first time in months, Finnick smiles back. We walk hand in hand to our house and I see a smile on Mags’ face when she sees Finnick’s happiness. When she sees him laugh at a joke I make. I can feel the happiness on my face when <em>he </em>cracks a joke and we laugh for longer than necessary, but hearing Finnick’s laugh is worth it. Seeing the genuine joy in his face as he serves Mags a piece of pie, giving her <em>way </em>too much whipped cream than necessary.</p><p>But maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s okay to give yourself a little extra sweetness in a world that’s this bitter.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Stop it!” I squeal as Finnick tries to dunk me into the water again. It’s almost March and the water is finally warm enough to swim in. Or at least not too cold anymore. I <em>had </em>been reading peacefully with Mags on the beach until Finnick picked me up and tossed me into the waves.</p><p>“Never!” Finnick crows, reaching out for me. I splash him, laughing at the look on his face. He crosses his arms and puts on a serious look. “Oh, it’s on.”</p><p>We splash around in the water, pushing each other into the waves. Finnick tries to pull Mags into it, but she shakes her head, a smile on her face. We continue to dunk each other in the water, letting the coldness refresh us. Mags leaves shortly after to go start dinner. Finnick chases me around and we fall into the waves, laughing. For a moment, everything fades away—and it’s just me and Finnick. No other worries, no other problems. Just us.</p><p>I’m shaking by the time she calls us in, and I don’t know if it’s from the slight chill that still lingers in the water or from the exhaustion of being in the ocean all afternoon.</p><p>I flail around in the water for a little bit, my attempts to move to shore only half-hearted. Finnick notices my shakiness and picks me up. I immediately react by pushing him away, but he just laughs and continues to carry me to shore.</p><p>“Are you going to drop me?” I ask, searching his face for truthfulness.</p><p>“Why would I drop you?” He replies innocently. I roll my eyes and grin. We reach the shore and he still holds onto me, but he doesn’t make any moves to go up to the house. He continues holding me for a couple minutes, smiling at me while he looks down at my face.</p><p>“Are you going to let me go?” I ask and look up at him. I want to ask if he’s okay, but he has been so happy today, I don’t want to bring that weight crashing back down onto his shoulders.</p><p>“Give me one good reason why I should?” Finnick asks, his eyes smiling.</p><p>“Mags is waiting,” I say. It’s the only reason I can come up with.</p><p>“No other reasons?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I’m hungry? Eventually we’ll have to go to bed?” I answer, not even trying to think of any other logical reasons. </p><p>“I’ll make you a deal—if you can’t think of one good reason why I should let you go, then I get to ask you one question and you have to answer truthfully.” Finnick’s eyes start to twinkle.</p><p>“Umm, I want to go have dinner,” I try. Finnick shakes his head, a grin spreading over his face.</p><p>“That one doesn’t count.”</p><p>“Fine,” I sigh. “What’s your question?” I look up at him and see the mischievous twinkle gone—replaced with a serious look.</p><p>“May I kiss you?” Finnick asks. The request seems so simple, but everything hidden behind it is so complex. We’ve kissed before, but we haven’t talked about it since. I search his eyes and find them full of honesty. I answer truthfully.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>His lips touch mine hesitatingly, asking for permission even though I’ve already given it. I give it again, and when he kisses me—the world disappears. All I can think about is him and his lips and his steady arms holding me up. Finnick pulls away, and I can’t help but want more. His eyes say what his lips cannot, and we go inside. I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready. I can only guess at what the Capitol “clients” do to him. And I don’t want him to think of me as one of his clients.</p><p>But as we walk back to the house he continues holding me. I lean my head against his chest and let a small smile fill up my face. <em>Finnick Odair </em>just kissed me. And I kissed him. And I want to do it again.</p><p>“Are you going to put me down <em>now</em>?” I ask Finnick. He shakes his head, smiling, and I laugh. He’s still holding me as we walk inside, and the smile on Mags’ face is all worth it—even when Finnick drops me on the floor to go try and pick up Mags. She pushes him away, laughing.</p><p>“Eat up,” she hands us our bowls, her eyes still smiling. We do, eating every bit of the dinner she made for us. I don’t think Finnick has eaten that much in well over a month, so Mags tries to sneak an extra serving onto his plate. I think he notices, but continues eating—pretending he didn’t. After dinner, Mags offers Finnick dessert, but he takes one of my blueberry muffins instead, smiling down at it. Is he happy about a muffin? Or is he happy that I’m getting better?</p><p>I don’t know the answers to my questions, but all I care about is the smile on his face, and the light in his eyes. These signs that are showing that he is getting better. That the real Finnick is finally coming back to us.</p><p>“Good night, Cresta,” Finnick whispers to me before I walk into my room. I turn around and give him a tight hug.</p><p>“Good night, Odair,” I say. In the faint moonlight, I can see the trace of a smile on his lips. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on my lips. When I open my eyes, he’s gone into his own room.</p><p>I fall asleep immediately, with a smile on my lips.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up in the middle of the night, breathing hard and sweating. <em>It was just a dream. It’s not real. </em>I repeat those words over and over in my head.</p><p>“You’re awake now, it’s over,” I whisper to myself. But it isn’t. Nothing is over yet and Snow can still hurt me. He can still hurt Annie and Mags. I let myself fall back into my mind, trying to remember what my nightmare was. I know it was about Annie.</p><p>She’s standing in an empty room—it almost looks like a prison cell. Snow is whispering in her ear, and I can hear him. I can hear the lies he’s saying to her.</p><p><em>But they’re not all lies. Some of what he’s telling her is true. You let him sell you. Your hands are covered in blood. You’ve murdered innocent children. </em>So has Snow. <em>But it wasn’t Snow’s hands holding the trident. </em>No!</p><p>I pull myself away again, even though I wasn’t even asleep. Grappling for the doorknob, I move down the hall.<em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth.</em> Annie’s door is cracked, the moonlight peeking through. I try my best to muffle my footsteps as I walk downstairs.</p><p>Looking at the clock in the kitchen, I realize I still have to face multiple more hours of sleep. It’s 1 in the morning, and Mags has been letting us sleep in until 9. Multiple more hours of nightmares. Of seeing Snow’s face haunt my dreams. Of watching him tell Annie everything. <em>No.</em></p><p>As quietly as I can, I try to make myself a pot of coffee. <em>It’s going to be a long night. </em></p><p>“Finnick?” Annie asks, her voice soft.</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep,” I reply, pouring out coffee into a mug. “What about you?” Annie rubs at her eyes, pulling out a stool to sit at.</p><p>“No, I couldn’t either—but in what way do you think coffee will help?” Annie asks, looking at my coffee cup with sleepy confusion.</p><p>“It won’t help me sleep, but it’ll help me stay awake,” I answer truthfully. “Tea?” Annie nods, and I start boiling some water. I grab out a container of orange tea. I’ve seen her drink it on cold winter evenings, so I assume she likes it. I hand her the mug, steaming with warmth.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“No problem,” I say, sitting next to her on a stool. “Sugar cube?” Annie scrunches up her nose and I laugh at her expression. “I’ll take that as a no.”</p><p>“In my tea? That’s just gross!” she exclaims. I look her dead in the eyes as I drop two into my cup of coffee. We both burst out laughing and Annie almost spits out her tea. Then we both somber up when we remember what is keeping us up.</p><p>“Did you want to talk about it?” I ask. I’m not one to talk about my feelings, but I feel I should make an effort to try.</p><p>“I mean-if you want to. We don’t have to. I mean—,” Annie doesn’t finish her thought, looking down at her mug. She whispers quietly, “I don’t know.”</p><p>“What was it about?”</p><p>“It was about the night my dad died,” she starts, a thoughtful look in her eyes. She looks up at me and seems to make a decision. “I was in the water with him again, and I was—I was calling for help. And nobody came. I started to get pulled under. Dad was gone and when I looked down it was his hands—pulling me down. Then there was a piece of-of the boat. I grabbed onto it and it turned over.” Tears are streaking across her face and I pull her into a hug. I could see the fight on her face—the need to cry overriding the need to look strong. “When it turned over it-it was his face. It was Ben’s body. An-and then they were all around me and I couldn’t breath and I-I—.”</p><p>Her body is shaking with silent sobs and I hold her tight against me. “Shhh,” I whisper into her hair. “Shhhh.”</p><p>After a little bit, I feel her stop shaking, and listen to her light breathing. I carry her back up to her room and tuck her into her bed, hoping that the nightmares will stay away. I press a kiss onto her forehead, breathing in her scent. She smells like the sea.</p><p>“Goodnight, Cresta,” I say into the darkness, closing her door behind me.</p><p>The next day, there’s a letter sitting on the kitchen table for me.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mr. Odair, I hope that this letter finds you in good health. It is with sadness that I write to tell you that this spring you will not be expected to perform your regular duties in the Capitol. It is understood that you will reassume these duties while mentoring for the 70<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games, but it has been made clear to me that you need to spend time with those you care about. I hope that you and Ms. Cresta are getting along well. My best wishes to you both.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            President Snow</em>
</p><p>“No. No, no, no, no, no, no,” I whisper to myself, reading the letter over and over again. There’s a reason Snow is giving me the spring off. He would never do it otherwise. He’s going to take Mags or Annie away from me. Or both of them.</p><p>“What does it say?” Mags asks from behind me. I turn to her, tears in my eyes, and hold out the letter for her to read. I watch as her eyes widen in surprise, then harden into resolve. “Live your life now. Don’t let him control your happiness. Show him that his power over you can’t stop you from loving us.” Everything is clear now. Snow wants me to live this spring in constant fear of my loved ones dying. In constant fear of whatever he’s going to do to them in the summer. So all I have to do is prove him wrong. Show him that the sun still shines through a stormy sky.</p><p>“Thank you,” I say, pulling Mags into a hug.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” Annie asks, looking concerned as she walks into the kitchen.</p><p>“Yes,” I reply honestly. “Everything is okay.” Annie smiles at me, still looking a little confused, but moving on to make herself tea. “Hey, could you teach me how to bake those muffins today?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she responds, a little wary.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Mags says, leaving the kitchen.</p><p>“What?” Annie calls after Mags.</p><p>“He’s hopeless!” She yells back, walking up the stairs.</p><p>“Well, we might as well try,” Annie says, rolling up her sleeves. She orders me around, telling me to grab certain ingredients.</p><p>“So, where do we start?” I ask, somewhat excited. Annie looks at me again, this time more thoughtfully. She grabs a piece of paper and starts writing something down.</p><p>“Here,” Annie hands me the paper. “This is the recipe. We already have all the ingredients out, so now we start mixing them.” I study the paper for a moment, and then I start measuring out the flour. I must be doing something wrong, because Annie gives me a look.</p><p>“What?” I ask, slightly defensive.</p><p>“When was the last time Mags let you make something in her kitchen?” Annie asks, taking the bowl away from me. She starts mixing up the ingredients with a metal whisk, which I had ignored in favor of a fork.</p><p>“Umm, when I was 15?” I say it as a question.</p><p>“Hmm. And what were you making?” Annie asks. I feel a blush spread over my cheeks.</p><p>“Toast,” I mumble guiltily.</p><p>“Okay, so from here on out I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do <em>exactly </em>what I say, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” I say, feeling like a little kid. Thankfully Annie does (surprisingly) let me help her, at least for a little while. She lets me crack one of the eggs, and I accidentally smash it onto the counter. After that, she makes me start to wash the dishes, but I don’t blame her.</p><p>“Wow, these are actually good,” Annie says, eating a warm muffin. We just pulled them out, and we’re sitting outside, eating them.</p><p>“Why do you sound so surprised?” I ask, offended.</p><p>“Because you helped to make them!” Annie exclaims. I laugh, shoving her a little. I see the smile on her face disappear and worry cloud her face as she comes to a realization.</p><p>“What is it?” I ask, wiping away a crumb on her face. She blushes a little, and looks down at her half-eaten muffin.</p><p>“When do you have to go back?” Annie asks. I don’t respond. “That’s what was in the letter, wasn’t it? When is he going to make you go back?” Annie asks, making me look at her.</p><p>“He isn’t,” I say bluntly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“He says he’s giving me the spring off.” Annie stares at me, uncomprehending. “I don’t have to go back, Annie. I don’t have to go back until the summer.”</p><p>“Not until the summer,” Annie repeats in disbelief. I nod, and see a grin break out on her face. Annie’s not stupid—she won’t truly believe that I’ll get the spring off, but it makes me smile to think that she’s trying to be happy for me.</p><p>“How bad are they?” Mags asks, coming back downstairs. She sniffs and looks around the kitchen. “I don’t see or smell anything burning.”</p><p>“Here, eat one,” Annie says, handing Mags a muffin, who looks at it skeptically. “They aren’t that bad.” Mags still looks doubtful, but takes a bite and smiles at us.</p><p>“For dinner, we should have a cookout!” I exclaim, grinning at Annie and Mags. Surprisingly, they both nod.</p><p>That night, we have a cookout on the beach, eating until we’re full and then eating more. Laughing together as the stars come out, letting all our worries be pulled away by the ocean tide.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is kind of short and mainly just fluff, but I hope you like it! School is over so I’ve been writing more and hopefully I won’t just post a bunch of chapters all at once (oops!) and I’ll finally settle into a routine.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The spring days pass quickly. Every week, Finnick and I bake together muffins together—and he’s actually getting better. We ignore our looming fate and spend the days laughing and smiling. We fall into a routine and stick to it, until one day in early April.</p><p>“Wake up!” Finnick says, shaking me awake.</p><p>“What do you want?” I mumble, rolling away. Usually I wake up around 9, but the sun isn’t even out yet—so I have no idea how early in the morning it is.</p><p>“Well, good morning to you too,” Finnick replies. “Get up, it’s your birthday!” I look up at him in surprise. I had completely forgotten—but Finnick and Mags hadn’t.</p><p>“If it’s my birthday, then why are you waking me up so early?” I ask, still trying to hide under my blankets.</p><p>“Oh, stop complaining and get up!” Finnick says, finally yanking me out of my bed. I make a face at him, but he smiles and laughs at me. “Come on.”</p><p>“I just want you to know that I hate you right now,” I say, my face straight.</p><p>“Liar, liar,” Finnick says in a sing-song voice as he closes the door behind him. I sigh to myself, stretching. I stand up an grab clothes to get dressed.</p><p>“So why do you want me up so early?” I ask, stifling a yawn. Mags hands me a cup of tea as I walk into the kitchen.</p><p>“We’re going to spend the entire day out at the beach. First, we’re going to watch the sunrise, then do whatever you want until lunch, eat your favorite foods for lunch, do whatever you want until dinner, eat dinner, make s’mores, and then watch the sunset,” Finnick declares, grinning from ear to ear.</p><p>“Thank you,” I say, my voice full of gratitude. Finnick smiles at me and we start to walk out to the beach. “Wait, isn’t Mags coming with us?” I ask, looking back.</p><p>“She wanted it to just be the two of us,” Finnick says. “Plus, she wanted to bake you a fresh loaf of bread to have today.”</p><p>“Okay,” I say, not pushing the matter. I’m still sleepy, so we sit out on a blanket, watching as the sun rises. I lean onto Finnick, resting my head on his shoulder.</p><p>Red streaks across the sky, mixing in with the yellow and the orange and the white of the clouds. It’s soft, melting into the ocean where the sun meets the water. Finnick tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear, smiling down at me. My eyelids grow heavy and I let myself fall asleep. There, I find myself in another nightmare.</p><p>
  <em>“Dad?” I ask into the room. I see him standing in the corner, looking out through a window. There is no sound except for my dad sharpening the blade of a fishing knife. He turns around.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Annie?” he asks. I’m able to look into his eyes for a moment, before his face warps into President Snow’s. The knife in his hand is now bloody and from the open window I can hear the screams of Ben and Lizzy and my mom and dad and my own screams. I’m screaming.</em>
</p><p>“Annie? Annie, wake up!” Finnick is shaking me awake a second time, but this time it’s more frantic. I see Mags kneeling beside him.</p><p>“What?” I ask before my nightmare hits me and I remember it all, flinching. When I answer, I see Finnick turn away for a moment, and take deep breaths.</p><p>“You were screaming,” Mags explains.</p><p>“It was a nightmare,” I say, pushing it away and planting a smile on my face. “I’m okay now.”</p><p>“Great,” Finnick says and I see him put a smile on for me and Mags. It seems we’re all pretending to be happy for each other. “Do you want to eat lunch?”</p><p>“Sure,” I respond, opening up one of the baskets Mags brought out. “Mmm, this looks good!”</p><p>Mags had made us a plate full of different types of sandwiches, made out of the best kind of bread, in my opinion. District Four bread—it’s the most delicious bread you’ll ever eat. It’s salty in a way that leaves you wanting more, and it tastes like the sea. Mags also has a container of fresh fruit, and I sink my teeth into juicy watermelon, not caring as it drips down my chin.</p><p>“You need a napkin,” Finnick says, looking at the sticky juice on my face. I look at him, and see that I’m not alone.</p><p>“So do you,” I reply. We rifle through the basket, successfully finding napkins, and wipe our mouths. “Let’s go swimming,” I say, not caring that we just ate. I see a second of hesitation on Finnick’s face and then he grins.</p><p>“Race you!” Finnick challenges, and we’re off. Both of us sprinting down the hill over the hot sand to be the first to the water.</p><p>“I beat you,” I pant.</p><p>“You did not.”</p><p>“I did, plus, it’s my birthday so…you kind of have to let me win,” I grin at him innocently.</p><p>“It’s your birthday?” Finnick asks, pretending to be confused.</p><p>“Shut up,” I smirk, pushing him into the water. He falls back, but he grabs onto my wrist so I fall down with him. We’re still partially on the beach and the waves don’t come over us. I’m suddenly very aware of my entire body, and that I’m lying on top of Finnick. I move to get up, but he holds me in my place with his eyes.</p><p>“May I?” Finnick asks, and I know exactly what he’s asking for. <em>May I kiss you? </em>I nod, a real smile growing on my face. It seems an odd request, but it just makes me like him even more. Because he’s such a gentleman, because he asks to kiss you so he won’t make you uncomfortable, because of how gentle and kind he is with Mags, because—.</p><p>My mind doesn’t finish it’s thought because Finnick is kissing me. His lips are even softer than I remember, and I can taste the salt from the ocean and the sweetness from the watermelon. I stop thinking, because all I can think of is Finnick. I close my eyes and let myself melt into him, forgetting all my worries. Forgetting about my nightmare and the darkness that President Snow is holding over us.</p><p>“Finnick?” I ask, and he pulls away, sitting up.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>I stumble over my words. “Is there any chance that this,” I gesture between us. “could be anything? Even if we had to keep it secret?” I let the last words rush out of my mouth and I duck my head, feeling myself blush. He puts his hand under my chin and I look up at him through my eyelashes.</p><p>“Yes. Even if Snow doesn’t want us to be together, I will find a way for us. I promise I won’t let him take you away,” Finnick’s green eyes are serious and I nod to show my understanding.</p><p>We lay in the sand for awhile, letting the afternoon sun soak into our skin. I close my eyes again, but I don’t fall asleep. My mind is on a constant loop of happiness. <em>Finnick wants to be with me. We are going to be together. Finnick wants me, not someone from the Capitol—</em>he wants me. Annie Cresta, a nobody from District Four. <em>Finnick wants me. </em></p><p>“Do you still choose me?” His voice sounds broken and detached. He’s voicing the same doubts that had just been running through my mind. Finnick had silenced my own doubts, but now I needed to silence his.</p><p>“No,” I say. I bring my face close to Finnick’s, and my eyes meet his, asking for permission. “I choose us.”</p><p>“Thank god, because that could’ve gotten awkward,” Finnick smiles at me. I roll my eyes and my lips brush his. We kiss and Finnick pulls me into a tight embrace. We lay on top of the blanket in the sand, my fingers resting on his chest. He runs his hands through my long, dark hair and they get caught in a tangle. Awkwardly, he tries to untangle his finger, failing miserably.</p><p>“Welcome to my life,” I murmur against Finnick. Once Finnick gets his finger untangled, he kisses me, and I smile against his lips.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Annie, I have your present,” Finnick whispers into my hair. Mags agreed to let us sleep out on the beach, and we’ve been laying in each other’s arms long after the sun went down.</p><p>“You got me a present?” I ask, knowing I must sound shocked. I am, though, because it seemed too much already that they remembered my birthday, let alone actually got me presents. But earlier in the day, Mags had given me a lovely cookbook—full of her own handwritten notes and recipes. Now Finnick is giving me who knows what, and it all seems to much. I take a deep breath. <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em></p><p>“Yeah, I did,” Finnick smiles down at me, kissing the top of my head. He hands me a small package. “Open it.” And I do. I carefully peel away the wrapping paper and open the box. I let out a small gasp when I see what’s inside.</p><p>“Finnick, this is too much,” I whisper. Nestled inside the box are the most beautiful necklaces imaginable. Both are made out of glass, forming two abstract pendants. One is the very essence of the ocean, of the waves, of the blues and greens. The other is red and orange and fire and light. It’s the sun burning bright in the sky.</p><p>“One for you, and one for me. I thought you’d like the one of the sun, and I could wear the ocean one. To remind us that at the end of the day we’ll always see each other again. I know it’s cheesy, but—” I cut him off with a kiss.</p><p>“It’s perfect,” I murmur. We help each other put on our necklaces, and I realize why Mags and Finnick wanted my birthday to be perfect. They wanted to help me make new memories, instead of remembering all my past birthdays with my family. “Thank you,” I whisper to Finnick, even though he doesn’t know that I’m not just showing my gratitude for the gift.</p><p>“Of course,” he whispers back. The stars have come out, and we lean against each other—pointing out familiar constelletions. We stay in each other’s arms all throughout the night, guarding against the nightmares.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been a week since Annie’s birthday, and we’re trying to spend every moment together.  Some days we bake, while others we sit out on the beach. Mags has us helping out around the house, so most days we’re stuck doing chores for her—but neither of us complain. For both of us, I think, it reminds us that we have a new home with each other. That our life with Mags is real, and even though our families are gone, we have a new one.</p><p>I still remember my family, and I know that Annie will never forget hers. I remember my mother’s hugs, so much like Mags’. How proud my dad was when I won, and how his stiff his body looked at the funeral. Snow had killed them. He couldn’t have me saying ‘no’ to clients, so he took away my family. Or so he thought. Now I’m finding a family with Annie and Mags.</p><p>But by building a family with Mags and Annie, am I just creating something else for Snow to destroy? I push away the thought, reminding myself of everything good. I make a list in my head.</p><p>Mags. Annie. Mags’ hugs. Annie’s smile. Annie’s blueberry muffins. Days at the beach with Annie. Tying knots. The sunset. Watching it with Annie on her birthday. My necklace. Annie’s necklace. Mags’ garden.</p><p><em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>I take a deep breath, put on a smile and walk down the stairs.</p><p>“Good morning!” I say cheerfully. Annie is already in the kitchen baking with Mags. It’s a Sunday morning, and we’ve started a tradition of having a nice brunch, made together (but mainly by Mags and Annie).  </p><p>“Do you want any tea?” Annie asks hopefully. She’s been trying to ease me off of my coffee drinking habits, but her attempts are futile. I grin at her as I pour myself a large cup of coffee, and she rolls her eyes at me.</p><p>I lean on the counter, watching Mags and Annie cook up bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. I watch as Annie laughs at a comment Mags made. I see the glint in her dark hair from the sun shining through the kitchen window. A smile grows on my face as Annie steals a piece of bacon to “taste-test” before laughing and continuing to fry the eggs. I never noticed before, but her eyes light up and sparkle like the ocean when she laughs.</p><p>The realization hits me like a brick, and I almost drop my coffee cup.</p><p>
  <em>I’m in love with Annie Cresta.</em>
</p><p>I love her.</p><p>The words are so simple, yet they mean so much. Other than talking to Mags, it’s been years since I’ve gotten close to someone—let alone fallen in love with them. But I have. I’ve fallen in love with Annie. And I’m terrified. But a genuine grin still spreads across my face as I watch Annie move around the kitchen.</p><p>I love her.</p><p>The words echo through my mind as I go through the rest of the day. I don’t say anything to her, but before we go to bed, I kiss her goodnight—and she smiles at me, kissing me back.</p><p>I love her.</p><p>I treasure every moment I get to spend with Annie, watching her bake, go swimming, or work in the gardens with Mags. I take in every detail about her, remembering how her eyes light up when she discusses a topic that she enjoys. Remembering the color of her hair when the sun shines on it. Remembering the how light her fingers were on my bruises and how soft her lips are when they touch mine.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Nightmare?” Mags asks, pouring me a cup of coffee. It’s the middle of the night, but I accept it gratefully. I nod, and tears start to drip down my face. Mags cups my chin in her hands and there’s a softness in her eyes. “What is it, my boy?”</p><p>“It’s Annie. Mags, I-I love her. And I finally know how Snow is going to take her from me,” I say, my chin quivering. The look in Mags’ eyes tell me that she’s known for awhile, possibly longer than I have.</p><p>“How?” Mags asks, even though she could probably think of hundreds of different ways Snow could kill off Annie. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, yet tears still leak down my cheek. My nightmare seeps back into my mind, and I let out a choked sob.</p><p><em>It’s Reaping Day, and District Four goes earlier in the morning, around 11. I’m standing on the stage, and Mags is next to me. I find Annie in the crowd—she’s wearing a lovely green dress. It makes her look beautiful. Then Chrystan is calling out the name. </em>Annie Cresta. <em>No! I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I don’t hear a name, but the face of the boy tribute morphs into Snow’s blood-stained smile.</em></p><p>“Finnick, Finnick. You’re going to wake up Annie,” Mags’ voice pulls me out of my head, and I let her shoulder muffle my sobs.</p><p>“He’s going to send her to the games. Snow’s going to make me watch her die. Annie—she-she’s going to be reaped this year,” I can barely say the words, but Mags understands. She holds me tight in her arms, blocking out the world and holding my shaking body.</p><p>“Either tell me what this is about, or I go back upstairs and pretend I didn’t hear anything,” Annie’s voice is quivering. I lift my head to look at her, and my vision is blurry—but I can make out the clear look of terror in her eyes.</p><p>“Oh, my dears,” Mags sighs, pulling Annie into our hug. I can’t tell for sure, but I think Mags’ eyes are shimmering with tears. We stand in the kitchen for awhile, none of us wanting to be the first to let go. I think Mags releases us first, giving us a look that says we need to talk before going upstairs.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, not knowing what else to say.</p><p>“For what?” Annie asks, genuinely confused.</p><p>“For everything. For your family. For your entire future. For what I’ve done to you because I let myself get close to you,” I say and I can’t meet her eyes.</p><p>“I chose this, Finnick. I choose to have a future with you. I won’t let Snow choose how we live our lives. <em>We </em>won’t let him control us,” Annie says, and her cheeks flush with anger.</p><p>“It’s going to be you. This summer. He’s going to make you go into the games,” I say, my voice still shaking. I look at Annie, meeting her beautiful eyes. They fill up with tears, and she reaches out to me.</p><p>“Are you sure?” she asks. I nod. Annie closes her eyes for a minute, and I see her face harden in resolve. She’s whispering words to herself and I can barely make out what she’s saying. <em>“I won’t let him break me.”</em></p><p>“Annie?” I ask, fiddling with my necklace. It’s become a habit, a way of grounding myself. A reminder of reality after the nightmares.</p><p>Annie gives me a small smile. “It’s like before. We knew that something was coming. We’ll just show him against that he can’t break us.”</p><p>“Annie?” I say again, searching her eyes for the answer to the question etched on my heart.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“Finnick? I think I love you too.”</p><p>“You think?” I tease, reaching up to touch her cheek.</p><p>“I know,” Annie whispers. Both of our eyes ask for permission, and each of us grants it. We kiss, and the world seems to stop for a moment. And all the bad goes away because <em>I love her </em>and <em>she loves me. </em></p><p>Countless others have fallen in love on this Earth, but for now—it seems as though our love is the only one that can exist.</p><p>The days past by too fast for our liking, but we whisper those three words to each other and it makes the weight little lighter. We cherish the little moments spent together, just as I had once cherished the moments spent watching her.</p><p>We cherish our kisses in the garden and our long walks on the beach. We cherish the days Annie spends trying to help me become a better baker. I even cherish the one morning Annie woke me up early to see the sunrise.</p><p>Reaping Day draws closer, and I struggle to sleep—my dreams plagued with nightmares. One night, Annie knocks on my door.</p><p>“Finnick?” she asks, quietly opening the door. I move towards her, yawning even though I was never asleep.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” I ask as soon as I see her red eyes and bleary face. She shakes her head—not trusting herself to speak. I pull her into a hug. “Shhh, you’re okay now,” I whisper against her hair. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”</p><p>“I don’t want to be a bother,” she replies, pulling away.</p><p>“You won’t be.” I look into her eyes. “I already don’t sleep, so at least one of us would be able to.” Her hand hesitantly reaches up to touch my face.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“I didn’t want to bother you,” I echo her words, gently leading her towards my bed.</p><p>“But I want you to bother me,” Annie says earnestly. “We love each other, don’t we?”</p><p>“Yes, Annie. I do, I do love you,” I say, kissing her.</p><p>”And that’s what love is,” Annie whispers against me. “Bothering each other, right?” </p><p>“Right. Annie?” I ask.</p><p>”What is it?”</p><p>”I can’t sleep,” I deadpan. Annie laughs and I relish the sound. </p><p>”I love you so much,” Annie says. She lays down on the bed, and I pull the blankets around us. She curls up against me and I hold her tight against my chest.</p><p>After that night, we don’t sleep alone. We fight away the nightmares side by side. We hold each other and our necklaces, reminding ourselves that we will always find a way.</p><p>With Annie by my side, the nightmares are less frequent, but it’s not until the morning of the Reaping that they solidify into the harsh reality.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We both know what’s going to happen today, and I don’t think either of us slept at all last night. We just stayed in each other’s arms, listening to the lull of the ocean waves and the rhythm of our breathing.</p><p>“Eat,” Mags orders, pushing two plates towards us. I’m not hungry—and I doubt Finnick is, but we each force down enough bites to satisfy Mags.</p><p>“I’m going to go get dressed,” I say, moving upstairs. Unlike Finnick, I can wear whatever I want, and Mags had given me an old dress of hers that I tweaked to better fit me.</p><p>“I’d better get changed too,” Finnick says, following me. His prep team had visited yesterday, but I ignored them in favor of picking flowers out on the beach. I didn’t get a chance to see what they picked out for him, but he walks in as I finish buttoning up my dress.</p><p>“Don’t you look handsome,” I say, straightening his shirt and resting my hand over the spot where his necklace rests. I drop my smile and my mood turns serious. “Don’t take it off, please. Even if you’re with clients. Keep it to think of me and to remember yourself. Please.”</p><p>“I won't ever take it off, I promise,” Finnick say, taking my hands into his own. Finnick kisses me gently and pulls me into his arms. I sigh, and Finnick kisses the top of my head, breathing deeply. I never want to leave his embrace—his strong arms that hold me tight and block out the real world. But we must let go.</p><p>“How do I look?” I ask, twirling in a circle. As I move, I see myself in the mirror. My dress is simple and dark green—nothing complicated. I didn't do much with my hair, only braiding the top with flowers and letting the rest fall down my back in gentle waves. The neckline of my dress isn’t low, but it drops down enough to show my glass pendant, glowing slightly from the sunlight.</p><p>“You—you look wonderful. Beautiful. Perfect,” Finnick says, a real smile forming on his face. I press my lips to his quickly, but Finnick pulls me back for a deeper kiss.</p><p>“I’ll be okay, Finnick. I’m strong,” I whisper against Finnick, breathing in his scent. A touch of fresh cologne mixed in with the salty scent of the ocean.</p><p>“I know,” Finnick replies, touching my cheek. “I love you.” I smile up at him.</p><p>“I love you, too.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Annie Cresta,” Chrystan calls out. The terror inside me swells, but I push it away. We knew this was going to happen. My body feels completely numb as I walk towards the stage, the crowd parting around me. I meet Finnick’s eyes and look away. I can’t cry now, and I can’t show any weakness.</p><p>“Now, for the gentleman. Kai Henderson!” I hear Chrystan call out. Somehow, I manage to process the name of the tribute. My District Partner. He looks to be 15, maybe 16. His face looks kind, and in the crowd, I see two little girls start crying.</p><p>Chrystan grabs our hands, lifting them up for the audience. Everyone claps, but no one looks excited. I glance over at Finnick, gather my strength, and paste on a smile for the cameras. I can’t look scared, but I try not to look too bloodthirsty.</p><p>I get escorted into a room in the Justice Hall, but I have nobody to say goodbye to. Mags and Finnick are both coming with me to the Capitol, and they are the only people I would ever want to say goodbye to. I sit on the velvet couch for what feels like forever. My nails form red half-moons on my palm, keeping me out of my thoughts.</p><p>Finnick is the one who comes to take me to the train. He squeezes my hand quickly and I hold on tightly for the brief moment of togetherness. I never want to let go of his hand, but we must. We can’t give Snow any more reasons to hate our love.</p><p>On the train, time seemly ceases to exist.  It reminds me of the days after my family died, and when Finnick came back after the Capitol. I don’t know if this is better or worse, but at least I have more control right now. At least I’m not lost in my own mind.</p><p>“We’ll arrive in the morning,” Finnick says, a Capitol smile on his face for the cameras lurking outside at the train station.</p><p>“I’ll take Kai,” Mags says, escorting him into an adjoining room. Over his shoulder, Kai gives us a look, but doesn’t pry. Finnick mouths <em>Thank you</em> to Mags, giving her a quick hug.</p><p>“What are we supposed to do?” I ask, attempting to get Finnick to talk to me. He sits down on one of the small couches and puts his head in his hands.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Annie. I’m sorry,” Finnick whispers over and over.</p><p>“Finnick,” I say, making him look at me. I sat down next to him, and now I take his chin in my hands. “It’s not your fault. Please, don’t blame yourself. If I die—” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “If I die, I don’t want you to fall apart. I want you to go on with your life. I don’t want you to go on thinking it’s your fault. Because it's not.” There are tears in his eyes, and even though it’s a risk, we kiss—pretending the world doesn’t exist for the hundredth time. And for a moment, it works.</p><p>“I should probably coach you,” Finnick says, pulling away and rubbing his face.</p><p>“Yeah, that would be a little helpful,” I tease, and get a small smile from Finnick.</p><p>“We have to figure out a way to portray you to the Capitol, to make them like you.”</p><p>“I’m brave and I don’t know much about fighting, but I’m smart. I’ll stay strong and hold my own.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re a fighter.” Finnick smiles. “We’ll deal with teaching you how to handle weapons later in the week. I think portraying you as brave will work. District Four has gone with the Career pack in the past, so we might be able to get you in. We can—”</p><p>Before he can finish, Mags walks in with Kai. “I think we should train them together,” Mags states. Finnick tries to protest, but Mags silences him. “I know we haven’t done it for a couple years, but I feel like we’ll be able to help them more by working together.”</p><p>In other words, Mags wants to help me, too. And probably make sure that Finnick actually helps me learn how to survive the Arena.</p><p>“Fine.” Finnick sighs, then changes into his Capitol persona—even though it’s only needed for one person out of four.</p><p>During the afternoon, Finnick and Mags coach us on how to present ourselves to get more sponsors. Dinner is served, but I only pick at my food, moving it around on the plate. Mags tries to get me to eat more, but I don’t have it in me. We watch the Reaping, watch as tributes from One and Two volunteer, watch as we walk to the stage, our chins set in defiance. After the final two tribute names are called, Finnick and Mags leave to go get ready for bed, encouraging us to do the same.</p><p>Kai and I don’t move, instead sitting on our chairs. The Reaping for each district are replaying on the screen, but it’s muted. I’m staring at the screen, but my mind is barely comprehending any of it. All I can think about is that all of these kids except for one, are going to be dead within the next month. That <em>I </em>might have to murder one of them.</p><p>“Do you need a band-aid?” Kai asks. It’s the first words he’s spoken to me.</p><p>“What?” I ask, still in a daze from the entire day.</p><p>“You’re bleeding.” He gestures to my thumb. I didn’t realize it, but I’d been picking away at the skin and it peeled off, leaving my thumb raw and bleeding.</p><p>“Oh,” I say quietly, but not making any moves to get up.</p><p>“Here.” Kai hands me a napkin from the snack cart.</p><p>“Thanks,” I say, pressing the cloth to my thumb. Now that I’ve noticed it, it throbs. I press down harder with the cloth, making it hurt more. It helps to distract me from my thoughts. “Your name is Kai, right?” I ask. I already know his name, but I don’t know what else to say.</p><p>“Yeah, and you’re Annie, right?” Kai asks. I nod, and our conversation ends as abruptly as it began. “Do you have a little brother?"</p><p>I feel trapped. I can’t talk and I can’t move, and I don’t know what to say. Ben and Lizzy’s faces flash in my mind as my breathing becomes rapid. My face must show some of what I’m feeling, because Kai tries to cover.</p><p>“It’s just—my little sister, Nina, she saw you and asked about Ben. She hadn’t seen him in a while,” Kai explains. He must live further away, must not have heard about the boat. I still feel trapped and I clench my teeth and cover my mouth, but a whimper still escapes. “Annie? Are you okay?"</p><p>Somehow, I manage to pull myself together. I repeat the words that ran through my mind right after their deaths. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>“They-they died. In a boating accident. My mom, Lizzy, and-and Ben.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, my dad died in a fishing accident a while back, too. I know it doesn’t compare, but I know how much saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t change anything,” Kai says. I see pain in his eyes and try to smile for him. “Everyone always apologizes, but then they just move on—congratulating themselves for comforting you. They don’t understand that ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t bring them back.” Kai looks startled to have said so much, but my face must look similar. I’m grateful he talked to me, but I don’t know if I should get close to him. What if I’m going to have to kill him?</p><p>“Thank you,” I say quietly, I don’t want to have any more connections with this boy. “We should probably get to bed.”</p><p>I manage to find my compartment, and I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. I look at the clock. Midnight. I get up to go find the kitchen to get myself tea, but I get turned around halfway there.</p><p>The halls are all dark and the windows provide no light. We must be going through one of the more rural districts, where everything isn’t lit up with streetlights.</p><p>I’m trying to find the way back to my room, but I just get more and more lost. It feels like one of my nightmares. There’s no way out, and I’m trapped here forever. Forever stuck in these twisting, winding hallways. Never able to get out. Never able to see light again. Never able to see anyone. Just stuck forever in these hallways, wandering for the rest of my life. Panic sets in, and I start running. My pulse quickens, faster and faster, and I feel the world fade away—dots swimming across my vision.            </p><p><em>No! </em>I can’t pass out. Not now. I sit down, hugging my knees to my chest and tucking myself into a corner. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>There’s a light as a door down the hall is opened. I nearly cry out in relief. A figure is silhouette against the door frame. <em>Finnick. </em></p><p>“Annie?” he asks, coming to kneel beside me. “What happened? Are you okay?” Words still won’t form, so I just nod. I can’t bring myself to smile, but his face still fills up with relief. He sits down beside me, pulling me into him.</p><p>“I wanted tea,” I manage to get out. “I couldn’t sleep.” Finnick doesn’t ask any more questions, and easily scoops me into his arms, starting to carry me back down the hall. “Finnick, please,” I say, knowing Finnick will understand. That he’ll know that I can’t fall asleep without him. I don’t know if he can sleep alone, but I do know that some nights he wakes up in a sweat and squeezes my hand, pulling me closer to him—pressing an extra kiss on my head, when he thinks I’m still asleep.</p><p>“Just don’t steal all the blankets,” he teases, carrying me into his room and closing the door behind us.</p><p>“How could I, since you already do that?” I ask. Finnick laughs and tucks us into his bed. He pulls me close to him and I feel his breath on my neck.</p><p>“Annie?”</p><p>“Yeah?” I ask, turning to face him. He runs a finger down my face, and I look into his eyes.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“I love you, too.”</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for the kudos! The plot is starting to pick up, so I hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How do I look?” Annie asks nervously from behind me. I turn around to face her and find myself at a loss for words.</p><p>Her dress is all different shades of green, from light sea-foam to the shadows in the trees. It hangs around her in ribbons, moving like seaweed. Her hair glimmers with green sparkles and her eyes glow in the light.</p><p>“Scandalous,” I say seductively, grinning at her.</p><p>“Shut up,” she says, punching my arm. We both look around nervously, scared that anyone would see our moment of friendship. We’re surrounded by tributes and Victors, prep teams and stylists.  It’s the night of the chariot ride, and we’ve almost survived one day in the Capitol.</p><p>“I’d better go soon,” I say, dreading the night to come. Snow already has my nights planned out for the next week, even though he knows I want to spend every minute trying to help Annie. I haven’t even bothered to look at the name of my first client. “Who’d you get?” I ask, nodding towards a group huddled nearby. Annie turns slightly and looks over at her stylist and prep team.</p><p>Annie hesitates for a moment. “Um, I think the one with the pink tattoos is Arabella, the one with the purple outfit is Lavinia, and the one with the blue makeup is Gwen. Oh—and my stylist is Cassandra, the one with the shiny dress,” she says triumphantly. I give her a quiet applause.</p><p>“That’s impressive, it took me awhile to remember my stylists’ name,” I say. In truth, the first couple days were hard, and I was trying to come to accept the fact that I would be dead soon—and in that moment the names of a couple Capitol helpers wouldn’t change anything. After I became a Victor, things changed, and I tried to make an effort to know my prep team.</p><p>“Annie, they’re almost ready to go, we should get you settled,” says the woman that I think is Cassandra, and she starts herding Annie into the chariot.</p><p>“Good luck!” I call out to her. “See you later!” I try and give her a reassuring smile. I won’t see her until the morning, but she’ll be okay with Mags. I pull out the paper I had shoved into my pocket. <em>Tatiana Hammond. </em>I look at her address and see that it’s not that far. Thankfully, I’m not called until right after the ceremony, so at least I’ll be able to watch Annie.</p><p>From my seat in the crowd, I’m able to see the chariots closely, but I still look to screens to see close-ups of their faces. A burst of happiness flutters in my stomach whenever I see Annie, who looks fierce and majestic and calm and beautiful. Her dress looks even more breathtaking as her chariot moves, ribbons and fabric and sparkles floating behind her.</p><p>“Mr. Odair?” I hear someone ask. I turn to see a woman with pastel colored hair looking at me and blushing a little.</p><p>“Yes?” I ask, trying not to be annoyed. This is what Snow wants—for his Capitol people to distract me from Annie.</p><p>“I know it’s a little early, but the chariot ride is almost over, so I was wondering if we could sneak away early.” A pink blush has set into her cheeks, and I take her hands.</p><p>“Tatiana?” I ask, and she nods. I give her a smile and tuck her against me as we walk through the crowd. We manage to get through the crowd and we walk to her address. The cool night air feels good on my skin and it clears my mind.</p><p>“Just in here,” she says, pulling open an apartment door. Inside it’s dark, except for the kitchen, which is where she moves to.</p><p>“That’s good, Tatiana. Thank you,” I hear a voice drawl. His accent sounds like on of the outer districts, maybe 11 or 12? The man walks into the edge of the light. <em>Haymitch Abernathy? </em></p><p>“Do either of you want something to drink?” Tatiana asks cheerfully. Haymitch must have hired her, so Snow wouldn’t know he was meeting with me. <em>But why would he want to talk to me?</em></p><p>“Yes, thank you, sweetheart,” he says to Tatiana. I shake my head and walk closer to Haymitch, still wary. “You might be wondering why I’m here,” Haymitch starts.</p><p>“Yeah, just a little,” I say, and I’m almost grateful that Haymitch notes my sarcasm.</p><p>“Well, you know Snow. He doesn’t like any of us Victors forming any friendships. And I needed a way to talk to you alone.”</p><p>“What about her?” I ask after Tatiana hands Haymitch his drink and walks away.</p><p>“Oh—her? We don’t have to worry, she’s fine. Now, do you know Plutarch Heavensbee?” Haymitch asks, taking a long sip from his glass.</p><p>“Yes?” I say hesitantly. “He’s one of the game makers, right?” Haymitch nods.</p><p>“Yes—he works here in the Capitol. But he also works for District 13.”</p><p>“There is no District 13,” I say immediately. The Capitol has drilled it into everyone, District 13 was destroyed and everything that remains is full of radiation.</p><p>“Yes,” Haymitch grins—a sight that is a little unnerving. “There is. It’s all underground now, we can give you more history if you want—but preferably not now. We need you to help us.”</p><p>“With what?” I ask, still trying to take it all in. District 13 still exists? And it’s functioning?</p><p>“We want to recruit you to help us with a rebellion. We’re still waiting for the right moment, but we need to get the Victor’s on our side. We already have Beetee from Three and Chaff and Seeder from Four,” Haymitch says. I look at him in complete shock. At this point, I don’t know if it’s because Haymitch just said something comprehensible, or because he wants me to be part of a revolution.</p><p>“This is going to get us all killed,” I finally say. Haymitch walks into the kitchen and pours himself another glass. When he walks back, he sighs heavily, and looks at me. I finally notice how tired he looks. How many Victors has he been trying to convince?</p><p>“Isn’t it something worth dying for?” Haymitch asks. I don’t respond and don’t show him how closely his words have hit me. <em>I do </em>want to die for a cause. That’s some of the instinct that got me out the Arena—the need to die at a time when it matters. Not when it’s another death to be plastered in the sky. Haymitch takes my silence as hesitation. “I didn’t want to do this, but it seems the only way to convince you,” Haymitch says. “Mags is in on it too, I don’t want to use her to push you into this, but we need you. You’re Finnick Odair—the Capitol’s sweetheart, we need you, Finnick.”</p><p>There’s desperation in his words. But if Mags is working for this rebellion, it might be worth all the risks. If we can make a safe world, a world without the games, without the terror, without <em>Snow. </em>If this will create a safe world for our children.</p><p>“Fine,” I agree. “What do you want me to do?” I weigh whether I just made the stupidest or best decision in my life.  </p><p>“Nothing, for now. We’ll keep in touch with you, but we’re at the very beginning.”</p><p>“Well, every revolution starts somewhere," I say, moving towards the door. </p><p>“Oh, and Finnick?” Haymitch asks before I open the door.</p><p>“Yes?” I say hesitantly.</p><p>“The training center roof provides a wonderful view.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Finnick?” Annie asks. She’s standing in the kitchen, looking at me. I pull off my coat and smile.</p><p>“Hello, darling,” I don’t know how these games will end, but I know that Annie can’t know about any of this, not yet. The rebellion might want Annie on their side because she’s such a fighter, but not now. I don’t want to pull her into this too early.</p><p>“I’m not your darling,” she says, but she’s smiling.</p><p>“Oh really?” I lean into her and kiss her, relishing this quiet moment together. We could be in the kitchen at home, making muffins together. </p><p>“Finnick,” Mags says condescendingly from the doorway. I pull away, hoping that wasn’t our last kiss. I push away the thought, a habit I’ve developed recently. I’m not losing Annie yet; we still have time together.</p><p>“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” I say to Mags, kissing her on the cheek. “You should get some sleep, Annie.” In Annie’s eyes, I see the look that expresses how I feel. <em>I don’t think I can sleep alone anymore. </em>I give her a hug, whispering in her ear. “You’ll be fine, you’re strong. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her eyes still beg. “Please, Annie. I don’t want them to do anything more to you in that Arena.”</p><p>“What did you say?” Mags asks after Annie leaves. I know she’s not asking about Annie.</p><p>“Yes,” I say. “I told him yes.” I look to Mags. She’s always guided me through the rough patches in life, and she’s there for me now. Her eyes say what she cannot voice, and I know I made the right decision. “Thank you.” I give her a big hug, and then leave to go to bed. My own experience from the Games haunts me as I fall asleep.</p><p>
  <em>"He’s so young, he won’t have the guts to kill anyone.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, he had charm in the interview, but you can’t charm anyone to death.” The Careers laugh, thinking I was sound asleep. </em>
</p><p><em>"We can make him kill the next one, show him how much fun it is.” One proposes and the others agree immediately. As I listened to them, I felt a strange sensation crawling up my spine. </em>Fear.</p><p><em>The next morning, they told me they’d found the boy from Eight. He was so young, and they made me murder him. They </em>laughed <em>when the spear pierced his body. Patted me on the back to congratulate me on my first kill. To tell me that I proved myself worthy. </em></p><p>I wake up early the next morning in a cold sweat, but I don’t move. I stay still in my bed, wanting to pretend that Annie isn’t a tribute. That I’m going to walk down and it’s another girl who I don’t know and just want to help keep alive. One who won’t make me fall apart if I lose her.</p><p>There’s a knock on my door. “Mr. Odair?” someone asks. I pull on a shirt and walk over, opening the door.</p><p>“Yes?” I ask. It’s the boy—Kai, I think his name is.</p><p>“I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I just was wondering if you had an extra advice. For how to get us in with the Careers. I’m pretty good at weapons, but I know you want us to work together—so I was wondering how we would get Annie in too. I didn’t want to bother her, since she seemed pretty worried already,” Kai says nervously. I barely remember this boy’s name, and he can already do more for Annie than I can. He can help her in the Arena. I realize that I have another way to keep Annie alive. One that involves someone who doesn’t want her dead. Or at least not yet.</p><p>“Yeah, I have some ideas,” I start, moving down to grab something to eat. “Oh—and you can call me Finnick.” Over the dining table, we discuss ways to convince the Careers of their abilities, and ways to get more Sponsors. Mags joins us halfway through and throws in some of her own ideas. Kai is intelligent, and he knows what it’s going to be like—but pushes on with an unwavering bravery.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Annie asks, walking in to sit down next to Mags. She grabs a roll and starts buttering it.</p><p>“Strategy,” Kai answers.</p><p>“Ways to get you in with the Careers,” I explain, pouring myself another cup of coffee.</p><p>“And to get you back out,” Mags says. We’d agreed that after a couple days, Annie and Kai would need to separate themselves from the pack.</p><p>“Great, what have you got?” Annie asks. I start to talk at the same time as Kai does, so I nod for him to take the lead.</p><p>“We were thinking that we need to get in with the Career pack, which won’t be too hard,” Kai starts, fiddling with his napkin.</p><p>“They’ve allied with Four before,” I add through a mouthful of berries. </p><p>“Yeah, so we thought that we’d stay with them during the bloodbath, but after a couple days, cut off the alliance. If we can do it in a way that doesn’t make us their first targets, that’s even better.”</p><p>“So leave while there’s still weaker tributes that will distract the Careers?” Annie asks. We all nod, happy that she’s understanding our plan. I didn’t doubt her, but it also helps show that Kai shouldn’t kill her as soon as they break their alliance. In the back of my mind, my thoughts are going wild trying to figure out how to pitch Annie to the Careers.</p><p>“After that, we could kill a few of the tributes, but I know I’d prefer to hide,” Kai says, looking down at his hands like he can already imagine the stain of red that will coat it.</p><p>“I agree, but what about Sponsors?” Annie grabs a spoonful of fruit and starts eating it.</p><p>“We were just starting to talk about them, but we need to leave soon, so we’ll talk more later,” Mags replies, already standing up to herd us out the door. Today, Mags and I would give mysterious descriptions to sponsors, but tomorrow we’d have more of a base for who our tributes are—and a more convincing way to get Sponsors. We escort Annie and Kai out to the elevator, but don’t go down with them.</p><p>“You’ll do great,” I whisper quickly to Annie, squeezing her hand before the doors close. I sigh and rub my face—it’s going to a long week.</p><p>“She’ll be fine,” Mags reassures me.</p><p>“Ready to get some sponsors?” I ask Mags, a blinding grin on my face. She laughs and drags me into the elevator.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>We spend the rest of the day wandering through teas and meals, trying to show off how great our tributes are. Even though we haven’t decided on a strategy, Mags says we’ll play up Annie’s bravery and tell all about Kai’s family. The Capitol eats it up—as always.</p><p>“Mr. Odair, I was wondering if I would have the pleasure of getting to see you before tonight,” a woman asks, running her finger up my arm. “Persephone Elliot,” she looks up at me through her dark eyelashes. “At your service."</p><p>“Persephone, as much as I would love to accompany you, I’m afraid that most of today I need to spend getting Sponsors with Mags,” I say, trying not to be rude. I don’t know how much trouble I would get in if Snow heard I was pushing away clients.</p><p>“Well, I’m very good at talking to people,” Persephone smiles at me. “And I have some friends with very deep pockets.” I put her hand on my arm and we walk back into the lion’s den. Persephone is helpful—in a way. I had no other choice, so I take what I can get.</p><p>“How are you doing?” Mags asks, walking over to the table where Persephone and I lounge with possible Sponsors.</p><p>“Pretty good, they’re loving Kai’s little sisters and Annie’s determination,” I reply. This year has been a good one, the people are more willing to bet on unlikely candidates. We had a winner from Four two years ago, so if we sell it right—they’ll believe anything. I push off any question about Annie’s skill level and try to move the conversation back to Kai’s expertise. Honestly, I have no idea if either of them will be able to make that choice. To kill someone. To kill the innocence inside of you.</p><p>I still remember my games—not like you could ever really forget them. It feels like so long ago, and I’ve grown up so much since then. In my nightmares I still see the eyes of my first kill. It was easy for me to get in with the Careers, but they still wanted me to prove myself since I was so young. My memory is fresh from last night.</p><p><em>They found the boy from Eight. It must’ve been his first Reaping, he didn’t look a day older than 13. His body was built small, too. I remember him curled up on the ground, begging me to save him. I had a spear, and I knew I had no other choice. </em>I’m sorry. <em>I told him silently. I pushed the spear into him, and I’ve never been able to get the sound of it piercing him out of my mind. I couldn’t close my eyes. I watched as the life went out of him, as his eyes went dull; his lips still parted from pleading.</em></p><p>He was somebody’s son. Somebody’s friend. Maybe even somebody’s brother. He had a family. He had a <em>life. </em>And I had just taken it away in a matter of seconds. I immediately felt nausea crawling up my throat, but I knew I couldn’t show any weakness in front of the Careers. So I didn’t. I pretended to laugh and smile—much like I do for the Capitol now. Then I broke off and started making traps for food instead of relying on the supplies the Careers hoarded. I killed so many other <em>children. </em>I know I was as young as them, but they still seemed so much more vulnerable. Cowering, trapped in a cave. Running, tripping, falling, <em>pleading. </em>All of them begging me. Begging for mercy.</p><p>Except sometimes I couldn't tell if mercy was sparing their life or ending it.</p><p>“Finnick? It’s time to go, I think you’ve done enough for your tributes today,” Persephone says, turning her nose up when she says ‘tributes’. She must have bought me for the whole evening <em>and </em>night. I wouldn’t get to see Annie until the morning.</p><p>“Mags?” I call to her before she leaves. “Talk strategy tonight and we’ll talk skills tomorrow.” Mags nods and I continue with Persephone. We make it to her apartment a little before 6. This time Haymitch won’t be inside. I’ll have to endure this entire night. <em>Think about Annie. </em>I hold onto my necklace, gripping it tightly.</p><p>“Do you want me to pay you any extra for this afternoon?” Persephone asks, pouring us both drinks. I look at her thoughtfully.</p><p>“Do you have any secrets?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mags tells me that Finnick won’t be back for dinner, so I try to focus on her words as we eat dinner and keep my thoughts away from Finnick.</p><p>Strategy. How to get Sponsors. How to convince the Careers of our trustworthiness. Kai and I talk to Mags about how we want ourselves to be presented and how we want to be seen by the Capitol.</p><p>“What am I supposed to say during the interview? I hate talking to people,” I say, chewing on my lip. I don't mind talking to Finnick or Mags, but Caesar Flickerman? On live TV? No thanks. </p><p>“You’ll be fine, the day after your private sessions we’ll prepare you,” Mags says, trying to reassure me. We sit and make idle chit-chat after our talk of Sponsors dies down. Dessert is served, but I only pick at the delicate cake, moving it around on my plate.</p><p>“You two had best be getting to bed, it’s getting late and we don’t want you tired, do we?” Chrystan says, standing up. I give Mags a quick hug and walk down the long hallway towards my room. Before I can reach my door, someone grabs my arm. Kai.</p><p>“What?” I ask, trying not to be rude. I know it comes across that way, but it’s been a long day. I ignored everyone during training in favor of starting fires and learning all about edible and poisonous plants.</p><p>“You should sit with us tomorrow, at lunch. You’ll never get in with them if you stay at the wilderness training station all day,” Kai says. <em>Them. </em>The Careers.</p><p>“I’m not good at weapons, so why would they want me?” I ask, rubbing my eyes and taking a deep breath.</p><p>“I tried to talk you up to them. I told them how brave you are and told them to look and see how great you are at starting fires and setting traps and knowing which plants are safe,” Kai says earnestly. He wants to help me?</p><p>“Why would you do that for me? We’re just going to kill each other,” I ask bluntly. With Mags and Finnick, we spoke about making a separate alliance and breaking off from the Careers, but now it’s just me and Kai. We don’t have to pretend to like each other, there’s nobody to see us. Nobody to tell us what’s in our best interest.</p><p>“I want to be friends; I want to have somebody in there who isn’t going to stab me in the back. I want you to trust me—to believe that we will get one of us out of there,” Kai says, looking me straight in the eyes. My hands are shaking, so I fiddle with my necklace—trying to make them stop.</p><p>“I don’t want to kill anyone. I can put on a brave face, I can learn new skills, I can try to get in with the Careers, but Kai—I’m scared,” I say, my voice shaking. “I don’t want to take away someone’s life. I don’t want to be the reason someone goes through that much.” My entire body is now shaking, and I lean against the wall. I didn’t mean to say everything, but it’s all out there now. And Kai understands—he lost his dad. He knows what it’s like to mourn someone—he understands that I don’t want to cause a family that much pain. The pain of watching someone you love die on television. A name to be forgotten after a moment in the sky. A letter thanking you for the peace your child’s death helps to keep. The pain of a small coffin coming back instead of your child. Instead of your brother or sister. Instead of a friend. Instead of someone you <em>love. </em></p><p>“I’m scared, too. But we’re going to make it,” Kai says. His words comfort me, even though we’re almost complete strangers. “Whatever happens in there, I’m going to fight for both of us. We’re going to get you out.” He smiles.</p><p>“No—you have more to come back to,” I protest, rubbing my face. He has two little sisters and an entire family waiting for him.</p><p>“Well, we aren’t there yet and I don’t know if either of us are even going to make it past the bloodbath, so we’ll sort it out later,” Kai jokes and he actually makes a smile spread on my face.</p><p>“Friends?” I ask, holding out my hand.</p><p>“Friends,” Kai agrees, pulling me into a hug. He walks away and I collapse against the wall. <em>Is that what Ben would have been like? </em>If he’d been given the chance to grow up?</p><p>Kai is so kind, and I pray that he isn’t going to turn on me. In the Capitol, it feels like everyone is using you to get to someone or using you to play their own game. Kai reminds me of home and of the ocean. Of its steady tides—always constant. My stomach turns itself into knots and panic grips me.</p><p>
  <em>I’m going to die in that Arena. </em>
</p><p>It hadn’t hit me before, but it does now. I rush into my room and close the door, locking it. I take frantic breaths and cover my mouth before I can scream. My eyes are wide with panic and my breaths shorten—quickening with each moment I struggle to get enough air. Fear rushes through me and my heart pounds in my ears.</p><p>I’m going to die in that Arena.</p><p>
  <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>
</p><p>How many other tributes have come to terms with their death in this very bedroom? How many other tributes have fingered this fabric, wondering if it’ll be their last night of being on this Earth?           </p><p>“No,” I repeat to myself. “No.” I won’t sit and mourn and pity myself. I will not wallow in my misery.</p><p><em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>I am strong. I will make it out of that Arena. And if I don’t, Kai will.</p><p>District Four will have a Victor this year.</p><p>As I feel myself drifting into sleep, I remember the words I repeated after they died. The words I imprinted in my mind.</p><p>“I won’t let him break me,” I whisper quietly before sleep drags me under.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em>The ocean laps around me, gentle against my skin. The light of the sunrise is soft against my skin and the sky a brilliant blue. </em>I’m home. <em>Back in District Four. I don’t see Finnick or Mags, but I float out in the ocean, all my worries gone. Pulled away by the tide. My eyes are closed, and I listen to the sound of the waves, the call of the birds, the whoosh of the wind. A breeze tickles my cheek, lifting some of my hair. My eyes stay closed and I don’t ever want to open them again. I can hear the soft flapping of wings from the birds in the sky; the splashing of fish jumping out of the water. </em></p><p>
  <em>Something bumps against me. I open my eyes and see a glimpse of bronze hair. Finnick? But it’s not him. It’s his body. His tanned skin is pale and sickly. Around me, the ocean churns and the sky turns dark. I look back to the shore, but it’s gone. Black water crashes around me and his body. I look and then there’s Mags’ body. And Dad’s. And Lizzy’s, and Ben’s, and Mom’s. Kai is there too, along with his two little sisters. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>All of them. Their bodies purple and bloated, their skin repulsive. I grab on to Finnick’s arm. I know I’ll drown if I don’t. The rubbery feeling of his skin under mine makes me gag. I let go. I’m going to drown. The waves start to pull me under. I try to grab on again, but my fingers slip. Rain beats down on me as I slip beneath the waves.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then it’s the night of the boat accident. My dad’s skin under my fingers. The water cold and harsh, its soft colors dissolved by the night. Thunder rumbling and lightning streaking the sky. Teeth chattering, the remains of our boat floating around us. Around me. The life is long gone from my father’s eyes, the warmth leeched from his body. My own small body being tossed by the waves. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Except this time Mags isn’t there to save me. Her bright boat doesn’t arrive. She isn’t there to pull me out and hold me. I sink into the waves, bodies surrounding me—their rubbery flesh taunting me. </em>
</p><p>Someone’s screaming. I open my eyes and look around. I’m not in the ocean, I’m in my bed in the Capitol. Someone is knocking on the door. Finnick is calling my name. I lick my lips, they’re dry and cracked.</p><p>Then I realize. <em>I’m </em>the one screaming. I move to unlock the door, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed, fear trapping me in. My arms start shaking with the exhaustion of trying to move them. My mind is on repeat, playing my nightmare. Over. And over. And over again.</p><p>I dry heave and gag when I remember the feeling of my dad’s cold flesh. My eyes are wide open, yet my nightmare still plays in my vision. The walls aren’t walls anymore, they’re the black ocean—crashing over me and drowning me. The blankets surrounding me turn into corpses. The smell of breakfast morphs into the scent of saltwater mixed in with the rotting of bodies.</p><p>Everything is replaying over and over in my mind, but I don’t move. I <em>can’t </em>move. I don’t even process the movement required to scream. But as my body fills with horror and alarm, no tears fall down my face.</p><p><em>I won’t let him break me. </em>Even in the state I’m in—I hold true to my resolve. My cheeks are completely dry.</p><p>My hands are gripping my legs, nails digging into my flesh. I didn’t realize it until now—when my hands don’t feel like my own. When they feel like someone else’s, dragging me under the waves as my lungs fill with water. <em>Is it possible to drown in air? </em>My body quivers from the attempts to release my legs.</p><p>But I can’t let go. I can’t do anything. My nails continue to claw at my legs until I see blood dotting the sheets. But I still can’t move them. They feel like the hands of a corpse. Dragging me under, <em>drowning me. </em></p><p>Terror constrict my lungs, squeezing them like a snake. I can’t take a deep breath and my screaming stops because <em>I can’t breathe. </em>I’m trapped in my own body—a prisoner to my own mind.</p><p>
  <em>In </em>
  <em>through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>
</p><p>My head pounds and my cracked lips start to bleed. When I swallow, it tastes metallic. The knocking increases, and I want it to stop. To be quiet.</p><p>To just <em>be quiet. </em>Everything is too, too, loud. The birds outside my window scream at me. The knocking is the crashing of the waves as they drown me. Voices calling to me are rain pounding against me, another force trying to drag me into the dark abyss.</p><p>A scream tears through me, but I still stay paralyzed against my pillows. I can’t move.</p><p>I. Need. To. Move.</p><p>I need everything to be quiet. Everything is too loud. But I can’t move. Can’t cover my ears. Can’t silence it. Can’t make any of it stop.</p><p>“Annie!” Finnick cries out when they’re finally able to unlock the door.</p><p>Everything goes quiet. The waves calm down.</p><p>“Finnick,” I try to say, but my voice is hoarse.</p><p>“Annie, shh, you’re okay. You’re okay,” Finnick whispers against me. I know we should worry about who is seeing us, but I don’t care. I bury myself against Finnick and let his arms block out the world for a moment.</p><p>Everything stays quiet. Except for his voice. But his voice isn’t apart of the storm. It’s the sun, pushing through the clouds.</p><p>“We need you to get ready for training,” Finnick says, sitting us up. I lean against him and take a deep breath.</p><p>“I’ll be okay,” I whisper to myself. “Are we late?” I ask, and Finnick shakes his head.</p><p>“No, we still have a little time, but we wanted to run you through getting in with the Careers,” Finnick says, looking worried. I give him a smile, trying not to make it look forced.</p><p>“I’m fine now,” I say and take his hands, squeezing them. I’m not fine, but Finnick is there. And he makes things better. He silenced the storm inside my head. Finnick looks over his shoulder and talks to Mags through eye contact. I’ve seen them do it enough times. I hear Mags and Kai leave.</p><p>“You’re not fine,” Finnick whispers, looking into my eyes.</p><p>“I promise, I’m fine now. It was just a nightmare,” I look at him and the urge to kiss him overcomes me. I see tears fill into his green eyes.</p><p>“How are you so brave? You keep on fighting, even if you’re hurting.”</p><p>“I’ve learned from the best,” I joke, poking him. “I promise you, Finnick Odair, I will fight. I won’t give up on us.”</p><p>“How does a woman so wonderful love me?” he asks, leaning his forehead against mine.</p><p>“I don’t know, but it’d be nice to meet her sometime,” I say, pretending to look thoughtful. I give it up after a minute and look back into his eyes, letting myself get lost in the green of the sea that fills his eyes. “I love you, Finnick.”</p><p>“I love you, too,” Finnick responds, kissing me. We stay there for a moment, letting the world disappear for a moment, all our worries lessened because the other is there.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“So, what are you good at?” Ruby asks, leering over me.</p><p>“Yeah, why should we let you in with us? Other than fish boy’s encouragement of your <em>bravery?”</em> Ally sneers. The girl from Two moves over next to Ruby, the red head from One.</p><p>“I’m great at plants,” I start, and my voice sounds weak and pitiful. I remember Mags and Finnick’s words. <em>You’re strong, even if it’s not physically. You’re amazing at identifying plants. You can swim like crazy. Convince them that they need you. You’re trustworthy and reliable. Play to their weaknesses. </em></p><p>“So?” Ruby asks, fiddling with a knife. I take a deep breath and put on my confident voice.</p><p>“I know which plants are safe and which aren't from most areas, and I am reliable. I may not be amazing in a fight, but I’ll always watch your back. You can trust me. If there is water, I can swim really well,” I say, then drop my voice. “Eventually the alliances will start to fall apart, and you can guess who’ll be the first to put a knife in your back.” I tilt my head towards Garret, the show-off from Two. He’s currently beating another tribute at sword-fighting and from the looks of it—he’s already won several rounds.</p><p>“Garret?” Ally asks, her voice showing her nerves.</p><p>“Yes.” I nod wisely. “He’s going to be the first to turn on you, think that you’re <em>weaker </em>because you’re a girl. But I’ll have your backs. You can trust me. I won’t be the one guilty if you show up with a knife stuck in you,” I finish. From the looks in their eyes, I know I’m in.</p><p>“Fine. You’re with us,” Ruby says, pointing her knife at me. “But no funny business.” I nod and hide my excitement. At least I’ll live past the bloodbath. The two girls walk away, and I lean against the wall, taking deep breaths.</p><p>“How’d it go?” Kai asks, walking over to me.</p><p>“I’m in,” I smile and he gives me a high-five.</p><p>“Great! Now, let’s eat. I’m starving!” Kai says, leading us over to a table currently full of Careers.</p><p>
  <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>
</p><p>This isn’t supposed to be the hard part. This should be easy. Treat them like friends from District Four. <em>Except they want you dead.</em></p><p>Somehow, I manage to make it through the small chit-chat that goes with lunch. Then we’re released back into the training center, and I seclude myself in the knot-tying station. Finnick has taught me enough knots to last a lifetime, but it makes me look busy—so now I won’t have to talk to any other Careers.</p><p>“Can you teach me how to tie one of those knots?” a little boy asks, pointing to the knot I hold in my hands.</p><p>“Sure,” I say, unable to resist. Apparently, I know more than the instructor, so I show the little boy how to tie the knot. My heart starts to ache when he calls over his District partner. Neither could be older than 13.</p><p>“What’s your name?” the little girl asks.</p><p>“You’re from Four, right?” The boy adds. “We’re from Nine.” District Nine. Grains. These two kids look so small and underfed, yet they’ve grown up in a farming District. Their skins is tan and healthy from days in the sun, yet they have bags under their eyes and their cheeks curve inward. No kid should look like this. They’re supposed to live in a place full of food, so why do they look so starved?</p><p>“I’m Maisie and this is Andrew,” the little girl says. I smile at her, pushing away my thoughts. I’ll puzzle it out later.</p><p>“I’m Annie,” I respond. I spend the rest of the day trying to teach them knots and all I know about plants. I don’t want them to die early, but I have a feeling they will. Both are so young and vulnerable, so I tell them all I can so that their deaths won’t be from hunger or lack of shelter.</p><p>“Thank you,” Andrew whispers before I leave. I smile at him and walk over to Kai.</p><p>“What if we have to kill them?” I ask, my voice frantic. Kai doesn’t have to ask who I’m talking about.</p><p>“It won’t come down to it. Look at them,” he says and nods his head towards the pack of Careers. “They’re all so bloodthirsty.” Meaning: Maisie and Andrew will be dead long before Kai and I break off the alliance.</p><p>We step onto the elevator. “Only one more day,” I whisper to myself as the doors close. One more day of training. One more day. The elevator starts moving and a flutter of butterflies stirs in my stomach.</p><p>Tomorrow is our private session with the Game-makers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it's kind of late, but I felt like I had to post a chapter today. It's not my best work and it's a filler chapter, but the next chapters have Finnick/Annie fluff and then there will be the interviews so yeah, I hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I still can’t get her screams out of my head. The complete terror that filled them. And the fact that I couldn’t get there in time. That she was screaming for a full five minutes before we could open the door. That she loves me even after I wasn’t there for her.</p><p>I wanted to ask her what her nightmare was about, but I didn't want to make her relive it again. She was wide awake when we walked in, but I could tell she was still seeing it. And all that mattered in the moment was making sure that she was okay. </p><p>“Finnick, darling, do you want a drink?” Selene asks me. I nod and try not to fall too far into my thoughts. Selene has been one of Snow’s clients for as long as I can remember and she’s the epitome of a Capitol citizen. Flirtatious, fashionable, rich, patriotic, and oblivious to how much the games ruin people’s lives. None of it means anything to me—but to Snow, she’s perfect. A perfect person to sell me to for multiple nights.</p><p>“Thank you,” I say when she hands me my drink, placing a kiss on her neck. Her perfume is strong and flowery—my head is already spinning. Tonight is going to be long. And tomorrow night. And all of next week. Snow <em>graciously </em>gave me the interview night off, but he has me with clients every night until the Games are over.</p><p>Selene has bought me for multiple different nights, but at least she always has good secrets. “So, anything good tonight?” I ask, trying to pick away at her gossiping rumors to find the real secrets.</p><p>“Shh,” she presses her finger to my lips. “Drinks first,” she says, gulping down a glass while pressing mine to my lips. I pull it away from her and take a sip, trying to push away my anxiety.  </p><p>“Are you excited for the Games this year?” I ask casually. Most Capitol citizens will go on and on about the Games, so that distracts them for a while. My tactic works and Selene starts gushing.</p><p>“Oh yes! The tribute parade this year was so fashionable! I can’t wait to see what the fall season will look like. And,” she leans into me, whispering against my ear, her breath tickling my cheek. “I heard that this year the Arena is going to be completely different than last year. It’s going to have a forest and a lake!” Selene giggles and pulls away.</p><p>“Thank you,” I whisper, pulling her towards me. “<em>That </em>is a very valuable secret.”</p><p>“Do I get a reward?” Selene asks, playing with her glass.</p><p>“Oh, yes, Miss Selene,” I say, kissing her lips. Every second she continues pressing her lips to mine makes me repulsed and I want to pull away—but I can’t.</p><p>Now I understand Annie’s feeling of helplessness. Of paralysis.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“The Arena is going to have a lake,” I whisper frantically to Mags before Annie and Kai come down to breakfast. “And it’ll have a forest.”</p><p>“That’s good, Finnick,” Mags says, grabbing my hands. “They can swim—and Annie knows her plants. This is good, my boy.”</p><p>“Good morning,” Annie says, walking into the kitchen. She doesn’t look like she slept at all.</p><p>“Good morning, my dear,” Mags replies, smiling at her. <em>Annie is going to be safe.</em></p><p>“I’m in with the Careers, I just don’t know what I’m going to do for my private session,” Annie says nervously. She doesn’t put much on her plate, only a spoonful of berries and a muffin.</p><p>“I’ll just throw around some spears and hope they notice me,” Kai jokes, sitting down at the table. I try to reassure them.</p><p>“You’ll do fine. Kai—you’re great at knives and spears. Annie—you’re great at plants.”</p><p>“Remember,” Mags adds. “Your scores aren’t everything. Both of you are already in with the Careers, so don’t worry too much.”</p><p>We finish breakfast in silence and give good luck hugs before Annie and Kai step into the elevator, the doors closing behind them.</p><p>“She’ll be fine, right?” I ask Mags, who squeezes my arm in response.</p><p>“They’ll both be fine. Now, do I need to ask why you seem more worried about Annie than she is for herself?” Mags asks and I roll my eyes.</p><p>“No,” I respond, letting Mags’ words seep into my mind. <em>Annie is going to be fine. She’s going to make it. </em></p><p>“Then let’s go get them more sponsors,” she says, pushing me into the elevator. “This is what you can do to help Annie—make sure she has weapons and food.”</p><p>We ride the elevator down and walk into the Victor’s lounge. Every time I enter, I think I might like it, but each time I hate it even more. It stands for all the lies they try to tell us. The furniture is white and pristine, televisions scattered across the walls. Mags and I walk over to the couches housing the Career Victors.</p><p>“Well, hello there! You look cheerful this morning,” Cashmere says brightly. I’m tempted to roll my eyes, but I just smile at her sarcasm. Gloss waves, already drinking a large cup of coffee. Enobaria bares her teeth at us in what could be a smile.</p><p>“Good morning,” Mags says, sitting down. I sit down next to her and look at Chaff.</p><p>“Eleven’s joining the alliance?” I ask.</p><p>“Only the girl, Sonya,” Chaff replies. I look across the room to see Seeder sitting near Wiress and Beetee. Eleven’s boy must be allies with Three.“Ready to go?” Brutus asks, walking over. We stand up and walk into another elevator to meet with sponsors. There is another area meant just for talking to Sponsors—the Victor’s lounge is mainly for meeting up and watching the Games.</p><p>We take a table and try to get as many Sponsors as possible. Our list is growing longer and longer as the afternoon wears on. <em>That’s a good thing. It’s for Annie. You’re keeping her safe. </em>I remind myself every time I grow tired.</p><p>“Damn,” Gloss whispers beside me. “Snow’s here.” I can just barely stop myself from flinching. <em>Is he here to talk to me?</em> There’s countless other Victors here, surely, he isn’t here for me.<em> Is he here because of Annie? </em>Thoughts run frantically through my head, but I keep an easy grin on my face as I talk up Annie and Kai to Sponsors.</p><p>“Mr. Odair?” President Snow asks. “A word, if you please.” I nod and stand up quickly, sending a quick look to Mags. Snow leads me to a side room and closes the door behind him. “It has come to my attention that you are not being as <em>attentive </em>as you clients would like.” I scan my mind for what I’ve done wrong. I’ve showered all my clients with kisses and words of affection—did Snow pay someone to “tell” on me?</p><p>“I will try my best, but I’m a mentor this year, so it is in my best interest to try and keep my tributes alive,” I reply—already regretting my word choice. Snow’s response is harsh, and his pleasant tone is gone.</p><p>“It is in your <em>best interest </em>that you keep your clients happy because unhappy clients make me unhappy. Is that clear?” Snow says sharply. I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth again. “You will do what makes your clients happy and they will come before your little <em>tributes</em>,” he says, sneering when he says tributes. “Now, back to the guests.” Snow pushes past me, but I don’t follow him. Snow’s trying to take away my ability to protect Annie.</p><p>I remember the spring, and what Mags told me. That I shouldn’t let Snow hold his power over me. The power to take away Annie. I hold my head up high and walk straight back into the lounge, talking with confidence and gaining double the number of Sponsors we usually get.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Annie?” I ask, knocking on her door. It’s time to watch the scores, to see how they did at their private sessions. Annie didn’t come down to dinner, and worry was eating away at my thoughts. “Annie, please. I know you can eat food in your room, but we need you to come out.” I pause a moment. “Please, Annie.” The door opens slightly and Annie steps out, looking bedraggled. Her eyes are red, and her hair is undone and tangled.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of anything to do, and I’m not good at weapons. I barely did anything, I don’t think they even noticed me,” Annie closes her eyes for a minute. I pull her close to me.</p><p>“What do you have to be sorry for? There’s nothing wrong with messing up. I don’t even remember what I did for my private sessions, you’ll be okay. As long as your score isn’t too low, we can work with it,” I whisper into her ear, pulling her hair back into a braid.</p><p>“But I didn’t do well, the Careers won’t want me now. I’m not good enough for them,” Annie mumbles.</p><p>“You're in with the Careers, Annie. And you <em>are </em>good enough. You’re even better than the Careers—you’re too good for me! We are going to get you out of there alive,” I say, stopping her protests with a kiss. She leans into my embrace, her head resting against my chest.</p><p>“Finnick—I know you want to get me out of there, but if you can’t—please save Kai. He has a family, he—he has little sisters,” Annie’s lip has started quivering. Ben and Lizzy’s faces flash in my mind, but I push them away. I can’t do anything to save them now, but if I can’t get Annie out alive then I can get a big brother back to his sisters.</p><p>“I promise,” I whisper, kissing Annie’s head before leading her into the living area.</p><p>“There you are!” Chrystan exclaims, standing up just to push us onto a couch. Kai smiles over at us and Mags squeezes my hand. “They’re just starting!”</p><p>We watch in silence as Districts One and Two get high scores and Three getting an 8–which is higher than usual. The room is filled with anticipation when Kai’s face appears, a number 7 circling his face.</p><p>“That’s great!” Mags tells Kai, giving him a hug. Annie smiles quickly at him, but her attention goes to the screen immediately after. Her face appears, along with a number 5.</p><p>“That’s good, Annie,” I say, hugging her. Mags smiles at us. In Annie’s eyes, I see her doubt and I pull her closer. “You’re gonna make it out of there,” I say quietly. <em>I promise. </em>I will do anything to get her home safe.</p><p>“Well, tomorrow is going to be a big day, so off to bed!” Chrystan says brightly, escorting Annie and Kai to their rooms. After they’re gone, I lean back on the couch and close my eyes.</p><p>“Finnick, you have a client tonight,” Mags reminds me. I sit up and take the large cup of coffee she holds out.</p><p>“Tomorrow, I’ll take Kai in the morning and you can take Annie for proper behavior and then in the afternoon we can both talk to them about interview questions,” I say quickly, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead before I go into the elevator. I see her nod before the doors close and I’m sealed away. I’m off to see Selene and I feel as though I’m walking to my death, again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Finnick? Is that you?” Selene calls from within her apartment. “The door’s unlocked, you can come in.” I take up her offer and walk to the kitchen, pouring us both glasses of wine.</p><p>“Selene?” I ask, walking through the rooms, trying to find her. She pops up beside me, gratefully downing the wine glass. I only take small sips of my own, but I know it will be the one thing able to get me through tonight. Other than thoughts of Annie.</p><p>Selene leads me to her couch and puts on the training scores, but leaves it muted. Snow’s warning plays in my head, and I know I have to be on my best behavior tonight. I pull her close to me and whisper compliments into her ear, making her giggle. I pretend that it’s Annie I’m talking to, that it’s her hair falling softly against my cheek. We kiss and it’s harder to forget, but I know I have to endure it. <em>For Annie’s sake. </em></p><p>“Stop,” Selene says harshly. “Stop it!” I pull away, my eyebrows knitting in confusion.</p><p>“What? What’s wrong?” I ask calmly, trying to soothe her. <em>I can’t have her report me to Snow. </em></p><p>“You’re not here. You’re not enjoying it. You’re not thinking about <em>me.</em>” Selene narrows her eyes at me. My eyes go wide with fear and I feel myself pale. Selene notices and a thoughtful look crosses her face.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I must have been distracted. But, Selene, there’s nobody else but you on my mind,” I lie earnestly. She doesn’t buy it, instead—she slaps me hard across the face. Her rings scratch my cheek and leaves my cheek stinging.</p><p>“You’re in love with someone aren’t you, naughty boy,” Selene says, running a sharply manicured fingernail up my face. “We’ll just have to make you forget, won’t we?” Selene slaps me again, harder, and her trailing nail digs into my skin, leaving a line of blood.</p><p>It’s all I can do to not let out a sigh of relief. Selene is going to hurt me on her own instead of reporting me to Snow. <em>Annie’s safe for now. Selene is not going to tell on you. </em>Selene’s hands pull away my shirt and wrap around my shoulders, her fingers creating bruises all over me. She winds something soft around my neck, but pulls it tight—straining my neck as she forces me to look up at her.</p><p>“You’re getting a break tomorrow, Mr. Odair, but have my word—this will not be forgotten. I won’t run like a little girl to Snow, but you will remember to focus next time, hmm?” Selene presses kisses against me, her teeth painful and hard against my newly forming bruises. The scarf pulls tighter around my neck when I don’t respond—all I can do is nod. She ignores it, smiling when she sees me start to pry at the scarf, my nails scratching my own neck. Eventually, she releases the scarf, but the sensation doesn’t go away.</p><p>I still feel the soft fabric against my skin and my lungs won’t fill up. Tiny black pinpricks flash in my vision and I get more and more lightheaded. My nails continue to scrape at my neck—trying to make it go away. Selene tires of watching me struggle and grabs my hands, pulling them away.</p><p>“We can’t have you bleeding all over the place, can we?” Her rings are thorns against my skin when she yanks at my chin to make me look at her.</p><p>“No, that would be quite a shame,” I reply, staring her dead in the eyes. I’ll take every one of her beatings if it means Annie stays safe.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is mainly me being indulgent and wanting to have some happy lighthearted Finnick/Annie moments, so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night after our scores are announced, I struggle to sleep. Again. I got a training score of 5, but my private session keeps playing in my mind. The way I just fiddled around with the plants, started a little fire, and attempted to throw a couple knives. I don't even know how I managed to get a 5. My mind is on overdrive, telling me all the different ways I could have gotten a higher score.</p><p>How can there only be one more day? Tomorrow I have interview prep, then the interview in the evening, and then the next morning I’m off to the Arena. Off to my death. Finnick has promised me he’ll get me out, but somehow, I don’t think I’m going to make it. Or at least not all of me. A part of me is going to die, whether it’s watching someone take their last breath or watching my own hands take someone’s life away. I will never be the same, but I’m determined to stay strong.</p><p>“<em>I</em><em> will not let him break me,” </em>I say to myself, sitting up in the dark. It has become my mantra, my comfort, my constant reminder of everything. Of the satisfaction I will have by living. By proving to Snow that he can’t break me—and that he can’t hurt either me or Finnick. Somehow, I end up falling asleep, my words still echoing in my mind.</p><p>
  <em>"</em>
  <em>Annie, Annie, please,” Ben is holding on to my coat, begging me. “Please, Annie.” Tears are running down his face. “Please.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What is it, Ben?” I ask, taking his chin in my hands. “What do you need?” Ben doesn’t respond, just keeps begging me and crying and begging and crying. And I can’t seem to make it stop. </em>
</p><p>“Ben?” I ask frantically, sitting up in bed. My eyes scan the room and I fall back into my pillows. I’m in the Capitol now and Ben is gone. <em>What had he wanted? </em>For me to stay?</p><p><em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>I glance at the clock. 7:06. I’d better get up, today is going to be long. I think Mags is going to try and teach me how to walk in a dress, but then in the afternoon I’ll be with Finnick. <em>Finnick. </em>My heart flutters when I think of him.</p><p>I push away all my thoughts and get dressed, not at all ready to face the day. Mags is in the kitchen, still waiting for Finnick. “Has he come back yet?” I ask, taking away Mags’ cup of tea and giving her a new one. How long has she been waiting? The warmth from her tea is long gone.</p><p>“No,” she says and only gives me a brief nod of thanks when I hand her the tea. We sit in silence for a while and eventually Kai wanders in, grabbing a plate and eating. I nibble on a muffin, but it’s almost 9, and Finnick still isn’t here. He should be back by now. I’m the one going to my death tomorrow, yet all I can think about is Finnick.</p><p>At last, the elevator <em>dings </em>and he walks in. I can’t stop the shriek that I let out.</p><p>“Finnick!” I rush to him, but I hesitate before I touch him. I saw him yesterday—without makeup, so everything is from last night. His face is bloody and bruised, his neck covered with fresh scabs. Everything is purple and blue and black. Everything looks like it <em>hurts. </em>All the bruises are new—nothing like the ones left over from his Capitol visit back in the summer. Blossoms of dark red on his face. Small circles of dark blue on his neck. <em>And that’s only what I can see. </em></p><p>“What happened?” Mags asks urgently, already moving into action. Chrystan must know about Finnick and his <em>clients, </em>but Kai doesn’t—so he ushers Kai into another room. Kai looks so dumbstruck that he follows easily.</p><p>“I wasn’t being <em>attentive </em>enough. I needed to be reminded that my clients are more important than Annie’s life,” Finnick spits out the words. I reach up to gently touch his cheek, but he flinches at the slightest touch. A look of sadness crosses his face when he realizes what he did and he attempts to smile at me, but ends up flinching again.</p><p>“Is this my fault?” I whisper. “Did they hurt you because of me?”</p><p>“No,” Finnick says quickly, his voice harsh. “This is <em>not </em>your fault.” I nod, still not really believing him. “Listen to me, Annie.” He grabs my chin. “This is not your fault. And I’ll get better, but you—you could die. And we need to stop that. So, let’s stop with all this fuss and get you and Kai ready for an interview.”</p><p>“Finnick—” I start, but he cuts me off with a kiss. My fingers find his necklace under his shirt, and we hold each other close for a moment before Mags gives us a gentle reminder to stop.</p><p>“Finnick, I’ll help Annie in the morning, and you’ll help her in the afternoon. But I think Annie should first help you get cleaned up,” Mags says. We already had the day worked out, but we need her reminder to actually start moving.</p><p>“Let’s go wash off some of the blood,” I say, gratefully taking the first aid kit from Mags. I don’t know much about first aid, but after living with two little kids I know how to take care of a few cuts and bruises. Only Finnick has more than a few. I wait out in the hallway while Finnick takes a quick shower and then he leads me to his bathroom and sits on the floor, leaning against the bathtub. I take a seat on the edge, tilting his head back so I can get a better look at all his injuries.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” I breathe, cringing as I watch pain flicker across Finnick’s face. I was dabbing some ointment on his scabs, but if it's the same type I use at home, then it stings. </p><p>“You’re good,” Finnick replies, his eyes closed. Thankfully none of his cuts are too deep and most only need a little Neosporin. I make Finnick take off his shirt and suppress a small gasp. I’ve seen him with his shirt off before, but I always forget how <em>fit </em>he is. His back is muscular and tan from being out in the sun. His skin looks so smooth, but I focus on the parts covered in scratches and bruises. On the pain that he must be feeling. The pain that I can help ease, at least for a little while. I also have to push away the sudden urge to kiss him. <em>Focus. </em>I shake my head and continue cleaning his cuts.</p><p>I finish up with his back and stomach, but I catch a glimpse of a cut on his scalp. I don’t want to know how it happened, but I clean it and dab some ointment on it. I run my fingers over his head to check for any more cuts. My hands linger for longer than needed, but his hair is so perfectly messed up and he dried it off after showering, so it's soft. </p><p>“Are you just messing with my hair to mess with my hair?” Finnick asks, his eyes still closed, and a faint smile is on his face.  I’m grateful, because my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.</p><p>“No,” I mumble guiltily, pulling my hand away quickly. “I was checking for cuts.” My excuse is weak and Finnick laughs at me, his green eyes shining.</p><p>“Liar,” he teases, pulling me down onto the floor next to him. “But you can play with my hair anytime you want.” I can’t tell if he’s serious or if he’s trying to make me blush. Because I am most definitely blushing like a teenager when her crush looks at her. I try to tuck my head against Finnick’s chest, but his fingers pull my face up to his.</p><p>“You’re blushing,” he states, somewhat dumbfounded.</p><p>“I am not,” I say, crossing my arms.</p><p>“You are too,” Finnick teases, grinning. I duck my head and curl up against Finnick, trying not to hurt him too much. For a moment, everything goes away.</p><p>It’s just me and Finnick. Together. No games, no worries, no Snow. Just us.</p><p>“I love you,” Finnick says, burying his face in my hair. In response, I reach up with my hand and tousle his hair.</p><p>“I love you, too.” We stay curled up together for a moment before I come back to my senses and remember what I’m supposed to be doing. “Oh! There’s a cream for your bruises.” In the first aid kit is an ointment that I don’t recognize, but I think it helps with bruising. I grab it and start dabbing it on Finnick’s face, trying to ignore his smirk.</p><p>“You’re really cute, you know. When you’re trying to focus on something,” Finnick says, his smile growing. I finish with the bruise cream and put it back into the kit, trying to fit everything into it neatly. And to ignore the look on Finnick’s face.</p><p>“We should head back soon,” I say, moving to stand up. Finnick catches me and pulls me back down, kissing me. “We really should go.”</p><p>“Yeah, but just give me a moment with my love. I’m injured,” Finnick says, making a pouty face. I laugh and try to get him to stand up.</p><p>“You’ll get to spend the entire afternoon with your love, and I think that your injuries are going to be okay,” I tease. We start walking back to the kitchen, where Mags is waiting for me. Finnick presses a quick kiss to my forehead before he walks to the living room—where Kai is with Chrystan.</p><p>“I can only help you so much, so I called in Cassandra to help with some of the fashion parts,” Mags begins, but is quickly interrupted by Cassandra’s Capitol accent.</p><p>“Oh, please! Call me Cassie,” she says, swooping into the room. “Now, Annie dear, have you ever walked in a floor-length dress and heels?” I don’t respond, not knowing if it’s a trick question. “Well, that is to be expected! We’ll get you all settled with a practice dress and Mags can talk you through some other details while we work!”</p><p>Cassie practically drags me into my bedroom, where she pulls out dress after dress for me to try on. In addition, she has at least 10 pairs of high heels lined up by the door.</p><p>“Annie,” Mags says quietly, and I turn my attention to her while Cassie bustles around me. “I know you already have perfect posture, but during the interview make sure you remember to sit up straight. We need you to look the part of a brave tribute. I don’t know how much Finnick will cover, so we can also start talking about what you need to say during your interview.”</p><p>Over the next couple hours, I try on dozens of dresses and stumble through too many different types of heels. After a lot of practice, I finally manage to walk without looking down. Or tripping. Cassie makes me perfect it until I don’t even<em> think</em> about looking down anymore.</p><p>Then she reminds me that I have to wear a long dress on top of walking in heels. Mags consoles me and coaches me on proper etiquette and behavior, as well as talking about how to present myself in a conversation. I practice answering questions and deflecting questions about my family—only quickly mentioning that they died in an accident. Cassie reassures me that it’s already been released, so at least I won’t have to be the one to dampen the mood. Mags reminds me to play up my bravery and courage. By the end, I<em> almost</em> feel prepared enough to face an interview with Caesar Flickerman.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“How did it go with Mags and Cassandra?” Finnick asks me, leading me into the living room and onto one of the couches.</p><p>“Okay. I think it’s possible for me to walk in heels without making a fool of myself,” I say.</p><p>“What about the dress?”</p><p>“What dress?” I deadpan and it gets a laugh out of Finnick. My fingers drift to his face, and a blossom of pain flowers inside of me when I imagine how much it must hurt. “Mags helped me with what to say, I don’t feel ready—but I don’t think I’ll ever be. So now we have the whole afternoon to ourselves,” I say, smiling at him. The real Finnick grins back.</p><p>“I know just where to go.”</p><p>Finnick leads me onto the elevator, sneaking us past Chrystan. We go all the way to the top of the training center, and he leads me through a maintenance door and onto the roof.</p><p>“What—?” I start, but then I see the view. It’s nothing like my ocean, yet it still takes my breath away. Lights from the city illuminate hundreds of buildings, some almost as tall as the training center. All the buildings are sleek and modern, but down below people are bustling all around. All the Capitol clothing is brightly colored, and their fashion trends are so odd that I start laughing.</p><p>“It’s a little hide-away, Haymitch told me about it,” Finnick tells me.</p><p>“Haymitch? The drunk one from Twelve?” I ask, confused. He always seems to have a bottle of something in his hands and on stage he staggers around like a drunk person. Which is somewhat understandable, because <em>he is a drunk person. </em>I try not to be quick to judge him, since we all have our faults, and I listen to what Finnick has to say about him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Finnick says, a little in awe himself. “When he’s not entirely drunk, conversations with him are actually interesting.” I smile, not knowing what else to say on the matter. Thankfully, I don’t need to say anything else, because Finnick kisses me.</p><p>“It feels like we’re on top of the world,” I whisper to him.</p><p>“We could be. And I just kissed you for the whole world to see,” Finnick whispers back and I smile against his lips. It’s our own little way of rebelling, kissing on top of the training center—in full view of everyone, but with no chance of anyone seeing us. Finnick leans into me and puts his head against my hair.</p><p>“What is it?” I ask, turning to face him when he gives me a look of confusion.</p><p>“Your hair—it still smells like the ocean,” Finnick says in wonder. I blush a little and look down at my feet.</p><p>“Last night, when I took a bath I—I took some salts and put it in the water. To make it smell like home.” I don’t look up at him, embarrassment coloring my face. But he laughs, a deep, throaty, genuine laugh.</p><p>“That’s amazing! Other tributes have been homesick, but putting salt in the water? That’s pure genius!” Finnick exclaims. He’s still laughing, and he seems so happy, so all I can do is laugh with him. It seems to be a curse of mine—if Finnick is laughing I must join in. His happiness is so very contagious.</p><p>We sit on the roof for a while, letting ourselves forget the world around us. We kiss under the afternoon sunshine, pretending that we’re out on the beach, together at home.</p><p>“Is it raining?” I ask Finnick as I feel a drop of coldness on my face. Around us, the sky has darkened considerably, and an ominous rumble of thunder has reached our ears.</p><p>“Yes,” he replies, but doesn’t make any move to get up. The droplets continue to increase in size and frequency as we stay sitting on the roof. Finnick stands up and looks at me, a wild look in his eyes. “Dance with me, Annie. Dance with me and pretend the world doesn’t exist.” I look at him and let Finnick pull me to me feet.</p><p>“I don’t know how to dance,” I confess. Finnick grins at me and pulls me close to him. We hold each other in a tight embrace, slowly moving to the rhythm of the rain. Finnick twirls me around a couple times and tries to teach me a few dance steps.</p><p>“To the left. No, Annie—your <em>other </em>left,” Finnick commands and I fall helplessly into another fit of giggling. I’m glad to see a real grin on Finnick’s face as he attempts to teach me.</p><p>We try a few more dance moves and it seems as thought I’m getting even worse. “God,” Finnick says, laughing to himself. “You’re a<em>wful </em>at this!” I smile innocently up at him and bat my eyelashes.</p><p>“Not as bad as you are at baking,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.</p><p>“Not true!” Finnick says, poking me. I twirl away and he continues trying to poke at me. My case of giggles has turn into contagious laughter and as I’m spinning, I start to fall over.</p><p>“Whoa, there!” Finnick says, catching me. I look up at him and instead of meeting his eyes, all I see are his lips. Finnick seems to know what I’m thinking, and he leans down to kiss me. Just as our lips are about to touch, another wave of heavy rain blows against us and I start shivering.</p><p>Finnick scoops me up into his arms and carries me inside, keeping me warm against him. We’re both drenched thoroughly and drip water everywhere as we wait on the elevator.</p><p>“What on earth—?” Mags begins when she sees us, but then she bursts out laughing. Kai walks in with a similar look of curiosity but helps grab us towels. We end up sitting at the kitchen table wrapped up in warm towels, drinking hot chocolate. For a moment (with the addition of Kai), it feels like home. Laughing, wringing out my wet hair, eating cookies, and holding a mug of hot chocolate. Everything feels right, for just one moment. Then our prep teams walk in, and everything focuses again.</p><p>Tonight is my interview. Tomorrow, the Arena.</p><p>Cassie doesn’t waste any time on questions, instead ushering me into a hot shower and laying out my dress bag on my bed. “We’re going to make you perfect!” Gwen exclaims as she brushes out my long, dark hair.</p><p>“Your dress is so gorgeous!” Arabella gushes, painting my nails with waves. They’d been gossiping for the last half hour and I’d tuned them out, but now they were moving on to the evening’s entertainment. I fight back a wave of nerves as it all begins to feel so real.</p><p>“Yes!” Lavinia agrees. “And your makeup is going to be exquisite!” I crane my neck to look at the mirror and catch a glimpse of my face. I’m surprised to see that I look like myself. My freckles are gone, but my eyes are only accented by a light blueish-green pigment and mascara. My lips are a soft shade of pink and my cheeks have a gentle blush. I didn’t think I’d recognize myself after they were through with me—and I don’t know if it’s a good thing that <em>I do </em>still recognize myself.</p><p>“How do you like it?” Arabella asks, moving the mirror so I can see my hair. It’s mostly down and in curled waves, but the top is done up with blue sparkles and shells.</p><p>“It’s perfect,” I say, stumbling over my words. The shells send a stab of heartache through me. Everything is in laser-focus now. I realized it earlier and it’s hitting me again. That I might be dead by noon tomorrow. That I’m going to be on live TV tonight.</p><p>“Here’s your dress!” Cassie says, smiling at me. I find her to be a quiet piece in the puzzle that is my chattering prep team. She doesn’t say much, but she doesn’t need to. She seems to get me—at least, as much as a Capitol person can understand. Cassie unzips the bag and reveals my interview dress. I hear my team let out a collective gasp—even though they’ve already seen it—and I surprise myself by hearing my own voice with theirs.</p><p>The dress perfectly captures my ocean. It’s layers and layers of soft fabric in shades of blues and greens and whites. The bodice is light blue and transparent white, looking like the gentle waves that lap at our feet when we sit in the sand. It fades down into darker shades of blues and greens, layering out around me into a perfect circle. When I walk, it moves with me, flowing behind me—just like the ocean. The neckline drops down enough to showcase my necklace, which stands out against all the blue.</p><p>“You look amazing!” Gwen says, handing me my shoes. They’re not much, only medium height heels. Almost nothing compared to some of the shoes Cassie made me wear earlier.</p><p>“Thank you,” I whisper, taking Cassie’s hands in mine. “Thank you—all of you,” I say, turning to the rest of them. I don’t look in the mirror again before walking out into the living room, where the others have assembled to go down together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's the interview chapter! Thank you for your kudos and comments! (it makes me really happy that people are enjoying my writing!&lt;3) Also if you want some pretty instrumental music to listen to, the movies use the song 'War' by the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble for Caesar's show and it's really cool!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You—you look beautiful,” I say, barely managing to get the words out. Annie practically floats into the living room, her floor length dress covering her shoes. Her dress is gorgeous, and it looks just like the ocean. Like home. I don’t get the chance to say anything else, and I can only give her hand a quick squeeze before Chrystan ushers us away into the elevator.</p><p>“Are you two ready for your interviews?” he asks with all too much excitement. Annie and Kai nod, both a little green from nerves. But Annie’s face is set in a firm resolve and Kai already looks ready to go into the Arena.</p><p>“You’ll both do great!” I say with false cheeriness, only slightly making fun of Chrystan. I do believe in them, but right now they don’t need a heartfelt speech. Mags gives me a look and I tone down the smile, but Annie’s eye-roll was worth the scolding.</p><p>The elevator ride seems to take forever, but eventually we make it down to the backstage area for Caesar’s show. The other tributes are lined up along the hallway and I wave to some of the other Victors but make no move to talk to them. Mags stays with us as well and whispers a few words of encouragement to Annie and Kai.</p><p>“It’ll be over before you know it and then all you have to do is sit there and smile!” Chrystan says before walking off to talk to One and Two’s escorts.</p><p>“You’ll be absolutely stunning,” I say to Annie, and I can’t keep the grin off my face. Because tonight belongs just to me and Annie.</p><p>Snow didn’t give me any clients, probably to pretend to show sympathy and give me the chance to dole out any last-minute advice to Annie and Kai. It could be our last night together, but I couldn’t care less. All that matters is that I get to be with Annie and that after we get through these interviews, I’ll be able to pretend that the Capitol doesn’t exist. Mags knows about it and she'll help to cover for us<em>—</em>I think she's glad that we're going to get to be together one last time. </p><p>The harmonized horns of Caesar Flickerman’s theme song starts playing, jerking me from my thoughts. I hear the crowd’s deafening roars as the tributes are led onto the stage. I try to catch Annie’s eye before she gets swept away in the crowd of tributes, but I miss her. Next to me, Mags squeezes my hand, pulling me to the seating area held especially for the Victors and stylists. The other seats are full of Capitol citizens, each one covered in different types of fabric and sparkles and wigs and makeup. This year, Caesar is styling a neon orange suit that matches his skin, hair, and makeup.</p><p>I tune out Caesar’s introduction and the tributes from One and Two. The girl from Three starts crying, causing a momentary paused that’s swiftly fixed by Caesar. My own interview flashes in my mind as the boy from Three starts talking.</p><p>
  <em>“Finnick Odair, now that’s quite a name.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, thank you, Caesar. It’s my grandfather’s name, and I hope I can live up to it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I have a feeling you will,” Caesar says, winking. “Now, a training score of 10! That is impressive. Is there any chance you could share a little of what went on during your private session?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It is private,” I say, glancing up at the Game-makers. “I don’t think there is much I can say about what happened during my session, but I'm very good at weapons—which probably helped get me a 10.” I smile at Caesar, shrugging my shoulders.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is there one weapon in particular that you’re good at?” he asks, turning the conversation towards the Arena I would be entering the next day.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I am from District Four, so I’m very good at using a trident. Most only see its practical purpose—to spear fish, but only a few notice how perfect it is to use as a spear. My father taught me how to use one as a weapon, and if I can get my hands on a trident in the Arena, then I’m going to be seeing you again soon, Caesar.”</em>
</p><p>“Now, do you have any strategies for the Arena?” Caesar asks the boy.</p><p>“I’m not great at weapons, but I’m good at technology. Give me some wire and circuits and I could fry someone faster than eggs!” he replies. The boy looks to be around Kai’s age and looks surprisingly excited at the thought of frying someone. Usually tributes from Three get eliminated quickly, but they’re full of unchecked geniuses. I think of Haymitch, and the names he mentioned. If Beetee really is with the rebels, then they’ve got a brilliant mind on their team.</p><p>
  <em>“Between us, Finnick, I have to say—you’re a very handsome young man. Is there a special girl back in District Four?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, I don’t think my mother would approve just yet, but there is a girl,” I start, looking down at the ground. “There’s my little sister, Bridget. I really want to get back to her.” I flash the audience a cheeky grin as Caesar starts laughing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did you hear that? Finnick Odair, everyone!” Caesar grins at me, spreading his arms to greet the next tribute and nods to me, my interview was over. I wave at the audience as I walk away, but I can’t keep the dread from seeping into me. They’re so ready to auction off a 14-year old. I push the thought away, I don’t need to have anything else on my mind. Getting out of the Arena alive is my first step. But at least I was able to talk about my skill with the trident and my high training score. Maybe there’ll be one in the Cornucopia for me. </em>
</p><p>“Next up is Annie Cresta!” Caesar cheers, holding a hand out to Annie. She takes it, stepping gracefully up onto the stage. I can’t help but notice the way her dress falls, cascading and moving like the ocean. It sends an unexpected pang of sadness into me.</p><p>“Thank you,” Annie says quietly. I can’t see her eyes, but I can guess they’re communicating with Caesar. He has a way of helping out the tributes. Caesar always knows the right thing to say to get the audience on your side. Even though he is the epitome of someone raised in the Capitol, I can’t help but like him. Caesar isn’t genuinely good or bad, he’s just a puppet for Snow. A way to make the games look entertaining and exciting instead of showing the brutal truth.</p><p>“This is a beautiful dress you have on. Tell me, what does it remind you of?” Caesar directs the conversation towards District Four, and home.</p><p>“Oh,” Annie whispers, fingering the material. Her voice is soft, nothing like her usually confidence and sarcasm. “It’s so wonderful, it’s just like the ocean. The fabric really shows how the water looks—all the different depths. Though, there is one thing fabric could never show.”</p><p>“What is that?” Caesar asks, looking genuinely intrigued.</p><p>“The sunset. Nothing could ever capture the way the water looks when the sun hits the horizon. How it lights up and glows a hundred different colors.” Annie’s eyes are shining, and all the sunsets spent together flash through my mind.</p><p>“I bet that’s a wonderful experience,” Caesar says gently. He pats her hand reassuringly and moves on to another subject. “I’m sure almost all of us have heard about the tragic accident that took your family, and I won’t make you go into any details—but tell me, is there anyone special back home?” It’s almost the exact question Caesar asked me, which I was able to deflect by talking about Bridget. <em>Bridget. </em>She was only Ben’s age when he killed her. <em>A reminder to never say no.</em> To never refuse a client.</p><p>Annie can’t use her family to deflect his question, so we made her memorize multiple different strategies to change the subject. Except when she starts talking, she tells the closest thing to the truth. And nothing could have worked better.</p><p>“I do have someone special, but I think he’d prefer to be kept anonymous,” Annie says hesitantly.</p><p>“Oooh, now that’s interesting! Of course, you can keep his identity secret, but Annie, tell me—can you reveal anything about your young man?” Caesar leans in towards Annie, as if listening to a big secret. Even I’m leaning forward in my seat, my body rigid with anticipation. <em>What is she going to tell him?</em></p><p>“Yes, Caesar, I think I can.” Annie pauses for a moment.</p><p>“Don’t keep us waiting! Go on!” Caesar encourages.</p><p>“He’s absolutely wonderful in every way. I don’t think there’s enough time to describe all the things that make him perfect,” Annie says, looking straight at me. “He’s kind and thoughtful and funny and smart—but he’s more than that, too. On my birthday he woke me up early just to see the sunrise and we have watched countless other sunsets since then. He’s never promised me that’s things are going to be alright, but he always reminds me that he chooses me. That we choose to be with each other. And that will forever mean more to me than any other type of reassurance,” Annie finishes with a small smile. <em>Does she mean all of that? </em>I can’t help but think that some of her words are exaggerated to play to the audience. My thoughts start swirling around my head rapidly.</p><p><em>Is this going to get her killed? </em>Maybe, but Snow can’t kill her if the audience likes her. <em>What’s going to happen when they try to figure out who her sweetheart is? </em>When they don’t find Annie Cresta’s lover in District Four. <em>She’ll be in the Arena, they can’t get information out of her from there. She said he wanted to be kept anonymous. </em>Except the Capitol has no idea what <em>anonymous </em>or <em>private </em>means.</p><p>I focus back on Annie and her eyes seem glassy with tears, but nothing spills over. Caesar overplays his own feeling to help Annie.</p><p>“That is very sweet, and I really hope that he is listening right now!” I see Caesar squeeze Annie’s hand. “Now, I know it’s a little off topic, but may I ask about this beautiful necklace that you’re wearing?” Annie touches her pendant, then holds in her palm to show to Caesar.</p><p>“It’s actually not that off topic. He gave it to me as a gift for my birthday to remind me that we’ll always find each other. And I know that I said that nothing could ever capture a sunset, but I may have lied a little.” Annie fingers her necklace guiltily and I find myself absentmindedly holding onto my own necklace. She didn’t mention the matching one, which is probably for the better.</p><p>“Oh?” Caesar prompts, and Annie smiles up at him.</p><p>“The glass really shows the colors, and it isn’t exact, but I think that’s what makes it so wonderful. I’m going to take it into the Arena as my token, and it’s a perfect reminder of sunsets at the beach—but in no way does it replace the sunsets, so it will make me want to go home and see it for myself again.”</p><p>“That’s just wonderful,” Caesar says softly. “I would ask you to keep on talking, but I’m afraid we don’t have much time left, so I must ask you—what are some of your plans for the Arena?”</p><p>“I don’t want to reveal too much,” Annie says with a smile. “But I can say that I’m very resourceful and I may not be great at weapons, but I can outsmart any other tribute. Plus, I won’t back down—I may not be physically strong, but I’m very brave.” Good. Annie is back to what we practiced, even though her small detour might do more for her than anything else.</p><p>“And that is all, folks! We are out of time, so say goodbye to Annie Cresta!” Annie waves to the cheering crowd, a smile on her face. <br/>The rest of the interviews go by in a blur—I only pay slight attention to Kai’s, but even during his I can’t keep my eyes off Annie. She’s so brilliant, but will this make Snow use the Arena to kill her? Maybe putting her in the same place as bloodthirsty children isn’t enough, maybe he’ll just use nature to kill her. She did imply that she was in love with me—her mysterious lover from District Four. Snow knows that there is nobody else, nobody but me.             </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Finnick?” Annie asks, knocking on my door. I smile to myself and open the door, letting Annie in. It isn’t super late, but Chrystan ushered Kai and Annie off to bed right after we got back from their interviews. Mags and I gave out last minute advice and hugs—we wouldn’t see them in the morning. Chrystan looked a little weepy, but it happens every year. A way to make the tributes feel special, that their sacrifice has touched someone. But all the hugs and goodbyes don’t stop anything. Don’t stop the fact that they are going into the Arena tomorrow.</p><p>“Hey,” I say, hugging her. “How’re you doing? You did great out there tonight.” My arm holds her securely to my side, and we walk towards my bed. Annie pulls the blanket up around her and curls up against the pillows.</p><p>“I’m okay,” she replies, not meeting my eyes. I grab an extra blanket from the end of my bed to wrap around us. It’s the middle of summer, but sometime you need an extra blanket to keep the world at bay.</p><p>“No, you’re not. Please don’t lie.” I take her hands in mine. Usually, I wouldn’t push her like this—but I don’t want anything between us tonight. “Annie, you’re about to go into an Arena full of people who want you dead—it’s okay if you’re not okay.” Annie looks so startled, but I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m dropping the news to her about the Games. She knows how awful they are, and how screwed up the logic is.</p><p>“No one’s ever told me that,” Annie whispers, moving to tuck herself against me.</p><p>“What? That it’s okay to not be okay?” I ask, making her look at me. She nods, biting her lip. “Mags told me that, after my family died. It’s so simple, yet it stops so many thoughts.” The thoughts that ask why you’re still sad and why you can’t sleep at night. The thoughts that wonder why you still scratch at your own skin when you wake up from nightmares. The thoughts that ask <em>why aren’t you normal? </em></p><p>“Thank you,” she says, and I lean down to kiss her.</p><p>“I should have told you a long time ago.”</p><p>We don’t say anything else, we just lay together, trying to pretend that it’s not our last night. But I can’t keep the thoughts away. The thought of Annie dead, a canon shot off to announce her death. The life gone from her blue eyes. A singular coffin. A funeral with no family. A name forgotten. Lost within all the other dead tributes.</p><p>“Finnick,” Annie says quietly, pulling me from my thoughts. “What’s wrong?” She catches a glimpse of my face. “Other than the obvious.” I turn to face her and she runs her hand through my hair.</p><p>“I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s selfish, but I love you so much and I don’t want you to leave me. To go somewhere I can’t follow. Because Snow will find a way to keep me here. To remember your death every day yet make me treat it like it was any other tribute,” I say in a rush. Tears are running down my cheeks, but Annie wipes them away and kisses me.</p><p>“Please don’t leave Mags—we’re her everything. She’d lose her entire family if she lost both of us. Finnick—she’d break.”</p><p>“I know, but <em>I’m </em>going to break if I lose you.”</p><p>“I promise, Finnick. I’ll fight. I’ll stay strong if it means coming back to you. But you you have to promise you won't give up on me or Mags.” Annie’s blue eyes drill into mine and I can’t believe that she is in love with me. She’s so full of strength and bravery and kindness and gentleness and fearlessness.</p><p>“I promise I won’t give up, but, Annie, I feel like such a coward,” I say, expressing my thoughts directly. Annie is the only person I can talk this freely to, other than Mags. “You’re promising me that you’ll fight, when I willingly oblige to follow every order Snow commands. You’re promising me that you’ll stay strong, when I break a little more each time I come home. You’re—” I can’t finish the sentence because Annie is kissing me, her lips pressing hard against mine.</p><p>“Don’t you ever lie like that again. You are <em>not </em>a coward. You’re fighting for us every time you come back from the Capitol, every time you show Snow that he can’t break you. That he can’t break us. Yeah, you aren’t going into the Arena tomorrow—but look at what your client did to you last night! You endured all of that and went on with your day. If that isn’t bravery, then I don’t know what is!” Annie exclaims, taking a deep breath.</p><p>“Annie, I love you so much,” I say, running my finger along her cheek. “And I’m going to marry you.”</p><p>“Finnick!”</p><p>“Not now,” I say, laughing a little. “After. Because there <em>is </em>going to be an after. I choose it.”</p><p>“You can’t just choose for there to be an after.” Annie rolls her eyes at me.</p><p>“But I know that there is going to be. And I know that we’re both going to live until the day we can say ‘I do’.”</p><p>“Snow would never let you get married,” Annie says, biting her lip. “You know that. It’d be like taking away his prized pet.” Annie falls back onto the pillows, burying her head. I pull them away and kiss her forehead and cheeks, making a smile grow on her face.</p><p>“I know, I know. But I also know that eventually there will be a world where we are safe to marry each other.” I can’t give her too much information about the rebellion, so I stay vague. “Because nothing is going to ever come between us. You promised me that you would fight. So now I’m promising you that I’m going to marry you.”</p><p>“I love you so much,” Annie says, smiling up at me.</p><p>“I know,” I reply smugly, and Annie grabs my hair and pulls me towards her, kissing me. Her lips hold the barest scent of salt, but it’s not from the ocean. It’s from the tears that ran down my face, now streaked across my cheeks.</p><p>“I’m taking my necklace with me. As my token,” Annie says quietly. “To remind me of my promise. I know I already said it on live TV, but I thought I should tell you.”</p><p>“Thanks for telling me beforehand,” I joke and Annie hits me with a pillow. “I haven’t taken mine off since the day I gave you yours. I hold onto it sometimes, to remind me of you. To bring me back. To remind me that we choose us. Now I’ll use it to remind me of my promises.” I sit up and see a serious look on her face before her eyes get a mischievous glint.</p><p>“It’s a good thing we’re putting these necklaces to use then, right?”</p><p>“It’s pretty enough that you would have worn it every once in a while.”</p><p>“Yeah, the only issue with wearing it full-time is when it doesn’t match my outfit. I hope our clothes aren’t green or something tomorrow,” Annie says, fingering her necklace while attempting to keep a straight face.</p><p>“Oh, really? That’s your biggest worry going into tomorrow?” I tease her, smiling.</p><p>“Is there anything else I should be worried about?” she asks, her eyes full of false innocence. I can’t think of a reply because we’re both laughing and then we’re kissing and then the whole world is fading away.</p><p>“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper, my words muffled slightly by her hair. I think Annie must be asleep until I hear her mumble the words she’d whispered the night I told her she was going to be Reaped.</p><p>“I won’t let him break me.”</p><p>I want to ask her about her words, to ask why they mean so much to her—but a glance at the clock tells me it’s getting late and I want Annie to be able to sleep. To be able to have one piece of luck on her side going into the Arena. So I don’t ask, and only desperately hope that she’ll come back to tell me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're in the Arena now! This chapter is a little long, but it's kind of setting the stage for the other Arena chapters so stay with me! Also, for the Annie/Finnick moment at the beginning, I kinda had the lyrics from Only Us (Dear Evan Hansen) stuck in my head, so yeah. That was inspired by the line "and the rest of the world falls away/the world falls away/and it's only us". (if you haven't listened to it, it's a really good musical!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up at dawn, with everything telling me to get a couple more minutes of sleep. But something else inside of me makes me stand up and walk to the tall windows, pulling open the curtain. Soft light filters in, and I feel a rush of gratitude that I’m awake right now. Because outside the sun rises, and it might be the last day I’ll be alive to see it.</p><p>“Why are you up so early?” Finnick asks groggily and I feel his arms wrap around my middle. I turn to face him and kiss him.</p><p>“To see the sunrise,” I say, my eyes drifting back towards the window.</p><p>“Don’t think like that,” Finnick says sharply—now awake and alert, and I don’t have to ask what he meant. Don’t think about all the lasts, the nevers, the maybes. I give him a small smile and nod, but they still creep in.</p><p>What if I never get to hear Finnick laugh again? Taste his blueberry muffins—which are almost always too sweet? See him grin at me and offer me sugar cubes for my tea? Watch him kiss Mags on the forehead each morning? What if I never get to sit out on the beach with him again?</p><p><em>Don’t think like that. </em>Finnick’s voice is clear and it breaks into my thoughts, silencing them for a moment. That’s what he’s good at. Silencing my mind when it’s on overdrive. Creating a little place that’s safe and hidden from the rest of the world. A place that’s quiet.</p><p>We stand at the window, not talking, just watching as the silver buildings of the Capitol are bathed in pink sunlight. I lean against Finnick, closing my eyes for a minute, opening them again when I hear Mags knocking on the door—saying that it’s time to get ready.</p><p>“We’d better get going,” Finnick says, not looking like he wants me to leave. We weren’t supposed to see each other this morning and our goodbyes were technically said last night. Mags and Finnick bent a few rules and pulled a few strings so that we would be able to be together this last night.</p><p>“I’ll be okay,” I promise. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>“The prep teams will be here soon!” Mags calls through the door and I hear her footsteps as she walks away. I start moving away, and Finnick slowly lets go of my hand, his own trailing through the air after mine, hesitating—not wanting to let go of me. I want to look back at him, but I don’t want to see all the hurt that must be in his eyes. I move towards the door and my hand starts reaching for the doorknob.</p><p>For a second, everything goes into slow motion and I think that Finnick is going to let me walk away. That everything we’ve talked about and promised is all going to fall apart in a moment.</p><p>“Annie,” Finnick whispers, rushing towards me. I turn around immediately and we’re locked together, the rest of the world spinning around us. Our own little universe blocking out everything else. Neither of us says a word, but our kiss says everything. I’m shorter than Finnick by a few inches and I feel my feet lift off the ground as Finnick holds me tight in his arms.</p><p>I still taste the salt on his lips from his tears and the sweetness from his sugar cubes. My hands grip his upper arms as our foreheads lean against one another, our eyes never straying.</p><p>“I love you,” we say at the same time, laughing a little. I don’t want to let go, but the prep teams will be here any minute. Finnick knows it, too, and he reluctantly releases me after a tight hug and whispered words of encouragement.</p><p>“You can do this, I’ll see you soon.”</p><p> <em>I</em><em> won’t let him break me. </em>I take a step forward, my body already missing Finnick. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>I square my shoulders and open the door, praying for my hands to stop shaking. I take careful steps down the hallway and back towards my room. Mags is waiting for me and gives me a tight hug, whispering the same words that Finnick had only minutes before.</p><p><em>“I’ll see you soon.”</em> Mags disappears down the hall and it hits me that I might never see her again. I fight off a wave of heartache. She’s been like a grandmother to me—she practically <em>could </em>be my grandmother. She’s taken care of me through the worst of it all, and now I might die without thanking her for everything. Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but I take a deep breath. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>“Annie? Annie, dear, we need to get you on the hovercraft,” Lavinia calls through the door and I let them in—not facing them while I change, unable to put a smile on my face. My prep team gave me a simple white shift and the fabric looks soft, but it itches against my skin after I put it on. At least I only have to wear it for the hovercraft ride—Cassie will help to prepare me after the ride to an Arena that could be absolutely anywhere.</p><p>“I’m ready,” I say, finally able to smile at my team. They don’t show any outward signs of emotion, but I wonder what could be going through their minds as they give me a final hug. If they only pretend to care and get attached to tributes so it’s not so hard when they die.</p><p>“Good, good,” Gwen mumbles, ushering me out the door. They lead me out of our apartments and into a hovercraft. The ladder that lifted me into the hovercraft has me frozen, and I’m struggling not to fall into my mind. Into my nightmares. I can’t find any difference between the paralyzing fear my nightmare caused and the paralysis I feel now. Someone in a pristine white lab coat walks over and introduces herself, but I don’t hear her words.</p><p>“Annie, this is a tracker. I’m going to inject it into your arm, but you’ll only feel a pinch.” She’s holding a syringe. <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>If I wasn’t frozen, I know I would be shaking and that I would flinch as soon as I felt the cold metal dig into my skin—but I don’t, unable to move at all.</p><p>And then it’s over. I take a deep breath and ignore the slight throbbing in my arm.</p><p>Once I’m unfrozen, I see Cassie. She immediately rushes over and gives me a big hug—she isn’t Mags, but it still comforts me. “Did you have any breakfast?” Cassie asks, pushing a plate towards me after I shake my head. I nibble on some fruit and try to eat some eggs, but I don’t have it in me to eat anything else. I stick to a glass of water—who knows if I’ll be able to find any in the Arena.</p><p>“Thank you,” I say, smiling at Cassie. “For making me look so wonderful.” I hope she knows that it’s not just for that, but also for her kindness towards me.</p><p>“Of course!” Cassie replies, a sad sort of smile on her face. I wonder how many tributes she has seen go into the Arena, and if any of them have ever come back out again. I give her a quick smile and turn my attention towards the windows.</p><p>The view takes my breath away, just like it did on the roof of the training center. Once again, I’m struck by how beautiful somethings are in life are and how completely different they can be. My ocean back at home, the sleek buildings of the Capitol, the rolling hills that we’re passing over just now.</p><p>“It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” Cassie asks, obviously trying to keep my mind on something other than my eminent death. All I can do is nod my head, my eyes staying glued to the landscapes we pass over.</p><p>I haven’t ever been in a hovercraft before, but the feeling is both terrifying and amazing. My mind is switching between a state of ‘I’m going to die’ and ‘this is so wonderful and brilliant’. The hovercraft is completely safe, yet I still have a sense of dread in the back of my mind. It’s always there, but at least today I can pinpoint where my anxiety is coming from.</p><p>The hovercraft could malfunction and we could all fall to our deaths. The landing won’t go well and we’ll crash and burn. The oxygen is going to run out and we’ll suffocate. There will be a fire in the engine that won’t go out.</p><p>My loop of thoughts is broken when the windows turn black, blocking out the view. We must be getting close to the Arena. Closer to my death. My thoughts switch over from ways I can die in a hovercraft, to ways I can die in the Arena.</p><p>Stepping off the plate too early, my remains only chunks of flesh. A Career regretting their alliance. Kai backstabbing me—and possibly quite literally. Getting killed off after Kai and I split off. No water in the Arena. No food in the Cornucopia. No—</p><p>“Annie, it’s time to get out,” Cassie tells me, gently helping me to my feet. My arm still throbs and I’m hesitant to use it climbing down the ladder, but eventually I’ll have to move it, so I climb down through the pain.</p><p>We walk through a cold tunnel buried deep under the ground. Deep beneath <em>the Arena</em>. An Avox leads us to a sleek metal room and the door clicks behind him when he leaves. It’s just me and Cassie now, and the infinite differences that separate us. I take a quick shower, letting the hot water scald me—relishing in its luxury. It feels like such a waste, to set up these nice rooms with accommodations most Districts can only dream about—only to never use it again. District Four was always well-off, but I don’t remember the last time I was able to use this much hot water.</p><p>“Your clothes arrived while you were getting cleaned up,” Cassie tells me, gesturing to a package laying on the bench. We open it carefully and I try to analyze it, figuring out what type of Arena I’m going to be facing.</p><p>Loose fitting cargo pants. <em>Somewhere that’s not too hot or cold. </em>A shirt made of a special material that looks like it would deflect rain or sweat. <em>Probably not a desert or tundra. Maybe somewhere wooded?</em> Dark boots that don’t look heavy, more like something you would hike in versus climb a mountain. <em>I’m betting it’s going to be wooded. </em></p><p>Cassie ties back my hair in a simple knot after I slip the clothes on. She’s sitting behind me and is a little surprised when I lean back against her, but she wraps her arms around me in a hug. For a moment, I imagine that she is Mags, comforting me after a long day of stress.</p><p>“You’ll be fine, Annie. You’re in with the Careers and you’re smart. Keep your wits about you and I’ll see you soon,” Cassie encourages, turning me to face her. Why does everyone keep saying that? “Oh! I almost forgot, where’s your token?” She looks around, searching through her pockets and the package.</p><p>“I have it, don’t worry,” I say, pulling my necklace out from under my shirt. I hold it for a moment, desperately hoping that it will give me the calm it normally does. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, imagining myself on the beach. Sand soft beneath my feet, a sweater keeping me cool in the evening breeze. The waves crash in the background, the bird’s voices quiet. The sun setting—it’s reflection beautiful in the water. Finnick beside me—<em>Finnick.</em></p><p>Remembering him reminds me of everything I have that’s worth fighting for.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p><p>I don’t say it out loud, but it repeats in my mind—louder and louder each time. We’ve been in this room for almost an hour, sitting around—just <em>waiting. </em>I know we must be getting close because the Games start promptly at 10 in the morning and it can’t be that early.</p><p>Waiting on the bench, I’m glad I didn’t eat much breakfast because I don’t know how much of it would have actually stayed in me—but I know later in the Arena I might regret it. Then again, I am with the Careers. I shouldn’t rely on it, but it gives me a small advantage than many other tributes are denied. I’ll be able to have access to food and fresh water, as well as weapons.</p><p>Butterflies are filling up my stomach and flying around madly at the thought of the Arena. My mind starts spiraling deep in the abyss of my worries, into all of my what ifs and nevers and infinite scenarios that would never happen, but <em>what if</em>.</p><p><em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>I force my lungs to take deep breaths, trying to form the calm I had a minute ago. I don’t find the same calm and the butterflies seem here to stay, but I repeat my words over and over to ground me—my palm imprinted from the glass of my necklace.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. I won’t let him break me. I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p><p>“Please prepare to enter the Arena. You will have one minute to step onto the plate. From there, you will go up into the Arena. Please do not step off your plate until the given time,” a female voice commands me. I walk over to the metal plate and try to clear my mind. To focus on this task, one step at a time.</p><p>Get onto plate. Wait. Wait again. Find Careers. Don’t get killed.</p><p>“Good luck out there. I believe in you,” Cassie says to me. Her voice sounds genuine and truthful, which only makes all of this worse. I can’t get my voice to work properly, so I smile at her, hoping that it’s enough.</p><p>The glass starts to slide up around me and I press my hand to it, overcome with terror. Overcome with the need to be free of this cage. Cassie says something, but my mind doesn’t process it. I only see her mouth moving and I assume that it was something reassuring. Something to remind me that I’ll be okay when I get in there.</p><p>But whatever she said does nothing for me. I feel panic set in, and I can’t take a deep breath anymore. My heart beats frantically as I stand there, banging my fists against the glass. I stare at Cassie, begging her to help me get out of this. Her eyes stare back at me, full of emotion. I see her mouth move to form one word.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t.</em>
</p><p>I shut my eyes tight. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>I force my arms to stay at my sides. I won’t go up there crying and screaming. The Careers would kill me.</p><p>Because we’re in the Arena now.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There’s a moment of complete darkness before bright sunlight is piercing my eyelids. I open my eyes and blink away the shining reflection of the sun off the lake. <em>Wait. A lake?</em></p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, let the 70<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games begin!” Claudius Templesmith’s voice rings out into the silent air. He’s been the announcer of the Games for as long as I can remember, and as his voice begins the countdown, my eyes start scanning the Arena.</p><p>The metal plates are placed in a circle around the Cornucopia, as usual. To the left is a wooded area and, in the distance, I see a rocky mountain. To the right I see a lake—a glorious lake that means water and fish and hope—but when I look closer, it drops off. <em>A waterfall? </em>No. <em>It’s a dam.</em></p><p>I realize it when I see the two metal towers standing guard. It’s a ways off, but still could be helpful information to have.</p><p>“10…9…8…7…” Claudius’ voice counts down the seconds, and I prepare myself to run. It goes against every bit of my instincts, but I’m with the Careers. I can get to the Cornucopia and the people there won’t want to kill me. Or at least not today.</p><p>Across from me, I see Kai and I meet his eyes. He gives me a smile and as soon as I hear the gong, I start running. Straight into the lion’s den.</p><p>I arrive at the Cornucopia after Garret and Ruby, but before some of the others. I’m not good at any specific weapons, so I just grab a couple knives and a spear—hoping they’ll work and that maybe I won’t have to use them.</p><p>“Hey there, fish boy,” Garret calls out to Kai as he arrives at the Cornucopia. Two other tributes have joined us, but I don’t know either of their names. Emmet and Ally ran in right after Kai, and I can see Sonya already wrestling with another tribute. Ruby runs to her, tossing her a knife and I watch as she slits the tribute’s throat—grinning. I’m still stuck, rooted to the ground, and staring when she walks over.</p><p>“What? Too much blood for you?” Sonya asks, her voice full of fake sincerity. I ignore her and jog over to Kai, who has a sword in his hand and a dumbstruck look on his face.</p><p>“They’re all running away,” Kai says, turning to me. I look around and count only three bodies so far. The Gamemakers must have put more supplies closer to the edges to try and switch it up a bit. Closer to the woods, I see a girl trying to grab a backpack—fighting against Sonya.</p><p>“She’s so bloodthirsty,” I say, nodding towards her and flinching when her knife finds its mark. On the opposite side, I see Ally take down another tribute. I scan my eyes across the field and realize that they’re all gone. Most of the tributes have made it out of the bloodbath alive.</p><p>We’re not the only ones who’ve noticed and Ruby is very grumpy by the time we’re all standing at the Cornucopia.</p><p>“You—” Ruby points her knife at me. “Start collecting supplies and figuring out what we have to work with.” She turns away and throws commands at the others, Garret standing by her side, arms crossed.</p><p>“We head out as soon as possible. We’re going to try a new tactic. We’ll have one base camp, here at the Cornucopia, but most of us will travel around finding tributes. After a day or two we’ll switch it up,” Garrets explains, sharpening his blade. I try not to imagine its sharp tip finding a home in my heart and focus on sorting out food and supplies.</p><p>We fill up backpacks with food, medical supplies, and containers of water. Ruby and Garret order us around, telling us which four are staying to guard and which five are going to find tributes. Immediately, Garret assigns me to stay and guard with Emmet, Ray, and Lexie. Ally, Kai, and Sonya would be joining Ruby and Garret. Looking around, I realize how big of a pack we are—and that they’re about to go on a hunting spree. And I’m about to go with them.</p><p>“Wait—” I say as they all start putting on their packs. “You don’t want me to stay here, my skills will be wasted. Who else here knows which plants are safe to eat? Who else bothered to study which ones will cure a tracker-jacker sting?” I see Ruby exchange an ‘I told you so’ look with Garret.</p><p>“Fine,” Garret huffs. “Ally, you stay here.” Ally throws her backpack at me along with an angry glare. I don’t meet her eyes and start walking into the woods with the others. They found the trail of a group of tributes, and the group looks to be about four tributes. <em>Will they make me kill anyone?</em></p><p>We hike along into the woods, stopping only for short breaks. I stay towards the back of the group, giving Kai a small smile when he joins me. After a little bit, the canon shoots off, echoing through the trees. <em>Five shots. Five tributes dead. </em></p><p>“That’s a lot less than usual,” Ruby remarks—looking a little annoyed.</p><p>“Just more for us to kill,” Sonya says gleefully. I hope that one of the other Careers will have to kill her before I face her.</p><p>We don’t talk much as night draws closer. I’m grateful for the rain jacket I found in my backpack because the evening brings with it a cool breeze and a blanket of mist. The group we’re following must be running because we still haven’t caught them by the time we settle down for the night.</p><p>Garret portions out the food and we huddle under the trees, not daring to set a fire. We don’t want to let any tributes know that we’re close.</p><p>“We should keep going during the night, why are we stopping?” I whisper to Kai, who shrugs, turning to go grab his sleeping bag. I don’t move, trying to savor the last of my dinner. I’m on first shift with Sonya for guarding. At least I’m on early, so I’ll be able to get a good amount of sleep. I never do well if I’m woken up before dawn.</p><p>“Look.” Kai points up at the sky and music reaches our ears as we see the faces of the fallen tributes displayed. Both girls from Three and Five, the boy from Eleven, and both from Twelve. I glance over to Sonya to see her reaction, but she’s distracted by her axe.</p><p>Before anyone has a chance to say talk, an arrow comes whistling through the air and lands directly in Ruby’s chest. My throat is choked up and I can’t even scream. Ruby doesn’t make any noise, just sits there as all the blood—ruby red—soaks into her shirt. Dead. Just like that.</p><p>Garret runs into the trees and I hear the squelch of a knife hitting its mark. The canon booms, lonesome in the night, and I hear the crunch of leaves as Garret jogs back.</p><p>“It was Lexie’s District partner—the boy from Six,” he explains, throwing the bow and arrows on the ground. Garret plops down on the ground and starts to wipe away the blood on his knife. I dig my fingernails hard into my palms to stop myself from flinching. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>It’s already dark by the time I realize that I missed the sunset—it must have been blocked off by the trees. We have a small lantern that sits in between Sonya and me, illuminating the dark. We don’t say anything, the only sounds being our breathing and nature.</p><p>“You must think that I’m horrible,” she says quietly. Her voice sound so different that the one that made fun of me and claimed how fun it would be to take someone else's life. Her voice almost sounds <em>sad. </em></p><p>It takes a minute for me to respond—it’s almost the end of our shift, and I was looking forward to sleep. We're only on the first day, so I’m able to hesitantly trust the Careers not to murder me in my sleep. <em>At least it’d be peaceful.</em></p><p>“A little—you did seem excited at the thought of murdering someone,” I admit carefully. I don’t want any of her numerous weapons to find a home in my body.</p><p>“Can I trust you?” she asks, looking at me closely.</p><p>“Yes,” I say, hoping she won’t kill me after she tells her secret.</p><p>“It’s all an act. The blood lust, the anger, the glee—all of it. And—” Sonya’s eyes are filling up with tears and I’m once again dunked into the backstabbing reality of the games. <em>Is she lying? Is this a trick? What game is she playing?</em></p><p>My thoughts run wild, but I try to keep my face calm. Sonya doesn’t seem able to say anything and I’m about to get up to wake up Kai when I her let out a little whimper.</p><p>“Did you know him well?” I ask, talking about her District partner.</p><p>“Yeah—our families knew each other. He and my sister loved each other.” Sonya lets out a bitter laugh. “I promised her that I’d bring him home safely, but look how well that’s gone. At least I’ve convinced the rest of them that I’m just as hungry for killing as they are. So, you know, I’ll last a little while. I thought the pretending would help keep both of us alive—if I was with the Careers then I could keep him safe, but it’s too late for that.”</p><p>“What was his name?” I ask. Sonya doesn’t respond and I don’t say anything else, only giving her hand a quick squeeze before heading off to wake up the next guards.</p><p>I think I might be imagining it when I hear her whisper, “Dylan.”</p><p>Laying in my sleeping bag on the cold ground—it hits me. Sonya doesn’t have anything outside of this Arena. If it came down to it—she wouldn’t want to be the Victor. She failed her sister—and from the looks of it, was in love with her District partner. She told me everything so that nobody would want to Sponsor her—so that the Capitol wouldn’t want her to make it. Sonya didn’t try to manipulate the promise she made to her sister to help get her out of the Arena—she used it to show that she doesn’t want to make it out of this Arena alive.</p><p>If I didn’t have Finnick or Mags—I wonder if I would be doing the same thing.</p><p>But I do have them.</p><p>
  <em>And I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am so so so sorry that I took so long to post this chapter. I'd say life has been busy, but really I was just procrastinating and reading other books. I'm also trying to figure out ways to write Finnick's chapters so that they are each different and don't get too boring. I hope you like this chapter and I'll do my best to post the next chapter soon! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My eyes burn from staring at the bright screen all night and my thoughts run rampant, but what else am I supposed to do? Annie’s with the Careers, but at any moment they could turn on her and murder her. <em>You wouldn’t want to see her die, though. </em>But if I didn’t see her frozen face and rigid body, then how do I go on living? <em>How do I know that she really, truly, won’t be there when I come home? How</em> do I learn to not expect to see her walking through the front door, laughing and smiling with Mags?</p><p>I glance across from me and see Mags fast asleep. The clock on the wall tells me it’s early in the morning—too early for anything—but I still grab a tablet from a shelf to keep an eye on Annie.</p><p>I open the doors as quietly as I can and walk to the nearest window. Nobody is awake yet, and an eerie silence fills the halls. No hushed voices to float from doorways; no clinking of glasses as people celebrate the deaths of tributes. No shouts or honking as people bustle down beneath the open window, on the streets of the Capitol. I look to the sky—and on the horizon, the sun is just beginning its ascent.</p><p>Bright red streaks cut across the sky and I grip onto my necklace tightly, letting it ground me. Silver buildings block my entire view of the sunrise, but the small glimpses I can catch are just enough. Enough to let me catch my breath and fill in the awful ache that has filled my chest ever since the first canon went off.</p><p>The gashes of red filling the sky look like blood—yet another reminder of my Games, of those days spent in the Arena. But some of the bad is washed away when another memory is sparked in me. A faint moment from the first time I had to mentor.</p><p>I can see it in my mind, imagining it perfectly—but somehow, it’s as if I’m seeing myself through a stranger’s eyes. Watching the conversation, invisible.</p><p>
  <em>Mags standing next to a young boy, looking out at a similar sunrise. The boy looks like he should be running around with friends, swimming and laughing in the ocean—not here in the Capitol. His shoulders are slumped and Mags’ arm is wrapped around him—helping to hold him together. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The red of the sunset is as bright as blood, just like this morning. Mags leans down to the boy—me—and whispers into his ear. I remember her words so clearly that it’s unnatural. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don’t remember the words exactly, but once I read that when a red sun rises, it means that blood has been spilt that night.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What book was it from?” I asked eagerly. Back then I still had time to read—President Snow would soon make me use up all of my time for training and being with clients.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I can’t recall, but it doesn’t matter,” Mags replied and looks out the window. In my memory, the sun shines on her face and she looks so much older. Laughing and age have curved lines deep into her face and her eyes hold years of sadness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Then why did you tell me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I told you so that you will remember. I don’t mentor every year, but on the ones that I do—I always try to see the sunrise on the morning after the bloodbath. More often than not I don’t get to a window, but on the times that I do the sunrise is always red—red as the blood spilled from the dead children. I’m telling you this, my boy, because I want you to remember the tributes that have fallen. This is your first year mentoring, and I hate that you have to watch them all die at such a young age. But I don’t want you to forget those who have given their lives, I want you to remember them when the time comes to fight.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Okay,” I said hesitantly. </em>
</p><p>Looking back on it now, I realize Mags must have known about District 13—she was guiding me towards them, and away from Snow, even though I was barely 15 years old<em>. </em></p><p>In the present, I look back at the sunset with new eyes. I make a promise to myself that when I am granted the chance to fight for what is right—I will fight until my last breath if it means that their deaths will be avenged. I’ll run with fire and fury in my blood until there is a new generation of children who don’t live their lives with the constant threat of the Reaping hanging over their head.</p><p>Even if it means leaving Annie. I’ll find a way to keep her safe—I’ll make it a term of my helping District 13. Helping the rebellion.</p><p>If I’m going to help them, then they’ll keep her safe. Then I can go and right the wrongs of our past. Make up for the lives I was forced to take in the Arena. For all the lives stopped too early because of Snow’s injustice.</p><p>“I promise, Annie. I’ll make it right. I’ll make the world safe for you—I swear,” I say, my voice not even a whisper. But it’s loud enough for me—it echoes inside of my head and starts to play on repeat.</p><p>
  <em>I’ll fight for them. I’ll make the world safe for you.</em>
</p><p>Two promises made today and I can only desperately plead to any god out there that I’ll be able to hold true to them.</p><p>             </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Annie made it through her first day alive and unscathed, but my mind is still a train wreck of thoughts as I stare at the screen, eyes unblinking. The inside of my lip is raw and bloody from chewing on it the entire day and night. Mags warns me that I can’t spend all of my time watching her from the monitors in the Victor’s lounge, but I ignore her and barely stop to eat—only taking a few bites when she threatens to get me forcibly taken back to our apartments (with all tablets and screens locked).</p><p>“Finnick, there’s a letter for you,” Mags says, pushing a sealed envelope across the table towards me. A bowl of oatmeal sits in front of me, untouched except for a few bites. Mags sighs and pulls it away—we both know I’m not going to eat any more.</p><p>“Wanna bet on whether or not it’s from Snow?” I ask, trying to get her to smile. She does, but it’s small and sad. I look away, not meeting her eyes, and open the letter. I don’t want her pity.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Mr. Odair,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It appears that your duties were neglected last night. I must say that I am very surprised at this report—you have always been a prime example of how a Victor should behave. I know that you have personal attachments to these Games, but do not let them come between yourself and your clients. I don’t have time to be making personal visits, but my schedule will be changed if necessary. I will see you tomorrow in the Victor’s lounge if you do not perform your duties tonight. I would also like you to remember your Ms. Cresta and the part she plays in the Games.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>              President Snow</em>
</p><p>“Shit. <em>Shit, shit, </em>shit!” I say loudly, pushing back my chair and standing up.</p><p>“Language,” Mags warns, but her words aren’t harsh. It’s a reflex she’s grown to have, but it hasn’t changed my swearing habits.</p><p>“Sorry,” I mumble under my breath—my hands going to my hair, pulling hard at the roots. My mind focuses back on the letter. He knows that I tried to get out of it last night. Snow knows and is going to do something to Annie. He’s going to punish her because of me. Like always. I reread the last sentence. <em>The part she plays in the Games. </em></p><p>Somehow, I have a feeling that his last sentence had nothing to do with the Arena. Snow always plays the long Game—a creation of his own design so that he controls every player. I start to pace around the room, but it does nothing to ease the panic in me. <em>“Why can’t he just take it out on me?” </em>I say, my voice shaking with anger. Tears fill my eyes and I collapse into my chair, crushing the note in my fist. <em>“Why does he always have to use her against me?”</em></p><p>“Finnick, you know why,” Mags says gently, coming to sit down next to me. She takes my hands into her own, squeezing them.</p><p>The worst part of it all is that I do know why he uses her. Because there is no other way to get to me, other than Mags. Because before Annie, Mags was all I had—Snow’s manipulation had poisoned me against friendships with anybody else. And Annie is a perfect way to punish <em>two</em> Victors if they step out of line. Plus, by hurting her in the Arena then he can cause the Capitol’s toy lots of pain without spilling any of his Victor’s blood.</p><p>“How are the other tributes doing?” I ask Mags, changing the subject. Overnight, the other Career Victors had gone to their apartments, so I was alone in our section of the lounge. On the wall, large screens projected close-ups of each tribute. You can enlarge any one you want, and Annie’s face currently dominated the screen. On the large wall of the common area, a picture of each tribute is displayed. Seven have already been flipped over to reveal their name and District number in white print on pure black paper, to show that seven have died so far. And only five of them were killed in the bloodbath.<em> This year’s going to be bad. </em></p><p>Mags presses buttons on the wall. and live shots of the other tributes appear on the screen. Most of the Careers are still asleep, but some have started to wake up. Another camera shows a group of about four tributes camped out a little further into the woods than the Careers. They’ve already started cleaning up their camp—they must be the group the Careers are hunting.</p><p>I stand up again, grabbing my tall mug and filling it up with black coffee. Other than occasional sips of water, it’s the only thing I’ve willing moved for. While I wait for the machine to start up, Mags gives me a run-down on the other tributes.</p><p>“A lot have survived the bloodbath this year—unusual, but we can work around it,” Mags starts.</p><p>“Yeah, there were lots of backpacks around the edges, not centered around the Cornucopia like usual,” I add, dropping in precisely four sugar cubes—a method I’ve perfected over years of gulping down tall mugs of coffee during Capitol visits.</p><p>“Must be a new technique—but I still can’t figure out if it’s working out the way they wanted to,” Chaff says, plopping down on the couch. Out of all the other Career Victors this year, Chaff has been the only one I’ve enjoyed interacting with. Eleven hasn’t paired with the Careers for a number of years, so it’s been nice having someone new to talk to. The Career Victors aren’t horrible people—they’ve just been put through horrible things. Most of them have been sold off just like me, but not all of them were as popular as I’ve become.</p><p>“It’ll either mean longer and less entertaining games or more death at a quicker rate,” Mags says, sighing. Neither of the situations will end well and both will leave Capitol citizens unhappy. Their Games will be too boring or finished too soon. <em>Nothing</em> will satisfy them.</p><p>“Great, just great,” Chaff mutters under his breath, downing a cup of coffee. I’m not the only Victor who’s figured out that coffee is a great way to stay alert during the days. Especially after nights of drinking glass after glass of alcohol to numb yourself. This morning is the first time in a while I’ve been in the Capitol and haven’t had an earsplitting headache.</p><p>“Nice little sentiment your girl gave last night—really helped her out,” Gloss says sarcastically, giving a pointed look at Chaff, who sighs and puts his head in his hands. His tribute, a girl named Sonya, practically lost all hope for getting sponsors when she confessed her secret to Annie. She could have changed the truth to help her—manipulating the Capitol citizens, but if her love for her District partner was anything close to what I have for Annie—then she would have no reason to go on living.</p><p>“We can work around her, we have all the other Careers and a lot of sponsors lined up,” Mags says, ever the optimist. I’m grateful that both Annie and Kai are with the Career pack, so I don’t have to be separated from Mags. That’s one of the comforts I can take from it.</p><p>“Looks like you’re about to lose one,” Haymitch calls over, leaning into the room from the doorway. His words slur together and if I were any closer, I know I would be able to smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. Both of his tributes were killed in the bloodbath, so the only logical reason he would come here is to get more to drink. He lurches unsteadily out the door and into the hallway, turning our attention back to the screen.</p><p>The rest of the Career Victors join us as we watch a boy creep up in the woods near the Cornucopia. My eyes still wander over to the screen showing Annie’s face—peaceful in sleep—but most of my attention is on the Cornucopia.</p><p>The Careers at the Cornucopia have two tributes on watch, but the rest are fast asleep. That’s another small advantage Annie has by being with the Careers—she’ll almost always get a good night’s sleep and solid meals, morning and night. From the looks of it, the boy only got a small knife from the bloodbath—no other helpful equipment.</p><p>“You idiot!” I hear someone say, and his slight drawl tells that he might be from one of the outer Districts—10 or 11. The boy’s idea was probably not encouraged by his mentor.</p><p>On screen, the boy slits the throat of a Career guard—causing Enobaria to throw up her hands in annoyance. A canon booms and all the other Careers are immediately on alert, waking up and grabbing weapons. Annie sits bolt upright, and I wonder if she was even ever truly asleep. </p><p>The Careers at the Cornucopia split up to loop around both sides of the structure. The boy freezes, and in his eyes you can see all his hope disappear.</p><p>Gone. Just like that. <em>No hope for anything better. </em>Not even for a painless death.</p><p>Thankfully the Career that finds him gives him one. His eyes glaze over and a spear punctures his heart—he falls down immediately. But then it’s not his face on the body collapsed on the ground—it’s the small boy from Eight. The one the Careers made me kill—the death that made them s<em>mile </em>and <em>cheer </em>when the life left his body.</p><p>Most times that I’m mentoring, I’m able to block out memories of my time in the Arena, but all my focus has been on Annie—so I have no protection against the flashes of faces and screams and pleading and crying that come after I see the boy. After my mind makes me replay it over and over.</p><p>
  <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth.</em>
</p><p>I still can’t make my lungs function. Isn’t breathing important? Shouldn’t your body do something so that you don’t just die?</p><p>“I need to take a minute,” I say, practically gasping. I force my legs to walk to the door, but after it closes behind me, I start running. I don’t even know where I’m going, I just know that I need to get as far away from that screen and that reality as possible.</p><p>Skidding around a corner, I run straight into someone. Glass shatters as we crash to the floor. My wrist pops when all my weight goes to it—in an attempt to support myself. I pull it towards me to feel for any damage—flinching when I see my bloodied hand.</p><p>“Whoops, better watch out there,” Haymitch says, his voice even slower and more slurred than before. I avoid the temptation to roll my eyes and gingerly pick myself up out of the mess.</p><p>“Sorry, it was my fault. Just needed some fresh air,” I say quickly, scanning my mind for places to clean my cut. I debate going back to my apartment to get clean bandages to cover my cuts. None of them are deep, but there are lots of them crisscrossing across my palm and most have small bits of glass embedded in them.</p><p>“And a good run, apparently,” Haymitch says, attempting to stand up. I give him a hand—having one too many interactions with Haymitch where he took about 10 tries to get off the floor, couch, etc.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” I mumble, starting to gravitate back towards the lounge. Mags would probably have bandages, or at least know where to get some without any fuss.</p><p>“If you still need some fresh air, the roof’s a good place,” Haymitch says, moving in the opposite direction. His words remind me of his recommendation to go to the training center roof—and how it turned out to be an excellent place to talk without worrying about anyone hearing. If he weren’t so drunk, I’d wonder if he had any more information about Thirteen.</p><p>“Actually, that sounds great,” I say, taking another risk and following him up floors of staircases. Haymitch opens up a door similar to the one on the training center, but he stops before going up onto the roof. Leaning down, he rifles through a box until he comes up with a handful of gauze, tweezers, and antibiotic ointment. I’m surprised that he’s sober enough to think of it—or know where to find the supplies—but I’m grateful for it. Snow’s <em>clients </em>wouldn’t want me to have an infection.</p><p>The height is dizzying, and the air is heavy with heat—but the combination somehow gives me the ability to finally taste fresh air and take a deep breath.</p><p>
  <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth.</em>
</p><p>The wind blows through me to my very core and helps to clear the haze of my thoughts. I take a deep breath before diving in—and hope that Haymitch is sober enough to understand me.</p><p>“I want you to protect Annie. Keep her safe and I’ll help you.” I keep my face determined, not daring to show any cracks that he might use. It’s just Haymitch, but I need him to agree to this. <em>I need him to keep her safe. </em></p><p>“Fine, fine,” Haymitch says, waving his hand around carelessly. “But how do you know she’s even going to make it?” The words are said lightly, not insinuating anything—just stating the harsh reality.</p><p>But I still push him against the door and punch him. Over the years I’ve learned how to throw a good punch.</p><p>“What the hell was that for?” Haymitch demands, holding his eye. I use my elbow to lock him in place and tuck my forearm under his chin—essentially crushing his windpipe if I were to move it up a couple inches and add a bit of force.</p><p>Truthfully, I don’t really know what I did it for. I guess I just didn’t realize how absolutely terrified I am to think about Annie dying. To think that her not making it out is a real possibly. A real, twisted line of fate that could tear me away from her.</p><p>I promised I’d fight for her—<em>but what if she’s gone? </em>What am I supposed to do when the one thing I have to fight for is dead? I have Mags, but it’s the family with her and Annie that I want. The life of simplicity—no Snow, no Games, no worry.</p><p>“Finnick? You there? ‘Cause I kinda want to know why you punched me? But also, damn son, that was a good punch. Who taught you?” Haymitch asks, his face still half-covered by his hand. I ignore the second part of his question and only partially answer the first.</p><p>“Don’t say that. It isn’t a possibility. She’s going to make it out and whoever is in charge of this rebellion is going to make sure she will be safe when the time comes to fight,” I say fiercely, not knowing if my words are more for him or me. My worry causes me to accidentally put more pressure on his neck. Haymitch lets out a small noise and I loosen a bit, moving back to lean against the wall. </p><p> In his eyes, I see a flicker of understanding—of <em>pain</em>. <em>He lost someone too. </em>In his Games. They had it on replay one time and I caught a few glimpses of it. The girl—one of his District partners. She died before he could save her.</p><p>“I’m scared it’s all my fault, too. That she’s caught up in all of this—that if she dies in that Arena it will be because of my decisions. Because of my selfishness.” My words surprise me, I didn’t expect for my thoughts to be voiced at all. I’m also surprised because of how true the words are true. What was once a jumbled mess of terrifying thoughts is now crystal clear.</p><p>“No, it’s not. I’ve been trying to blame myself for her death all these years—until I found out about District 13. They’re far from perfect, but they helped to remind me that I wasn’t the one who put her in the Arena—and don’t start on Annie. Snow is the one who has encouraged this and built it up, not us. We need to stop blaming ourselves and start blaming Snow. Finnick, you have to move out of the past eventually. Do it now when you have something to fight for—before it’s gone.”</p><p>“Thank you,” I say, my once determined voice now diminished to a soft whisper.</p><p>“It took me a couple years to figure it out—guess I thought I’d give you a bit of a head start,” Haymitch jokes, but the lighthearted tone doesn’t stop the serious meaning of our conversation. His voice isn’t as slurred as it had been at the start of our conversation—and I know that it doesn’t work like that. Unless you get a good night’s sleep, which I’m sure Haymitch didn’t (plus he’d been drinking this morning), the slurred speech just gets worse and worse. As I think about it, chewing on my lip, I’m struck by a thought.</p><p>“Do you just pretend to be drunk so nobody suspects you of anything?”</p><p>“No—well, only sort of,” Haymitch starts, laughing hard. It’s a strange sight to see a Victor laughing—truly laughing. “I doubt I’ll ever be able to give up my alcohol, but some days I do play it up. It’s easier that way to ignore all of it—the pomp, the fluff, the Arena—and just focus on whatever task 13 needs me to do.”</p><p>“Will they have anything for me to do, or is it all going to be in the future?” I ask. Haymitch had told me about 13 and a little about the rebellion, but I know that I’ll do anything to make the world safe again as soon as possible.</p><p>“Not for awhile. We may have you help us recruit some of the other Victors, but we need this to be as secretive as possible—meaning that most of the big parts will have to be executed slowly—so Snow doesn’t suspect anything. We have some plans for the Quarter Quell, but nothing set in stone—and I’m afraid that I can’t tell you anything else. More meetings will be set up,” Haymitch says, ending the conversation abruptly. He hands me the pile of gauze and tips an invisible hat, walking out the door—leaving me stunned for a moment in my thoughts.</p><p>Only one clear sentence makes it out of the confused jumble of my mind.</p><p>
  <em>They can keep her safe. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It takes all of my self-control not to dash back to the Victor’s lounge to see if I missed anything. I had been out talking to Haymitch for a lot longer than I meant to. Unlike this morning, I didn’t have a tablet to keep an eye of the Arena.</p><p>When I walk back to the corner area where the Careers are seated, I find myself grateful that nobody mentions my absence. Mags tsks at my hands—which I completely forgotten about. I bite down on my tongue to keep from flinching when she pulls the glass out and wraps gauze loosely around my palms.</p><p>“No, before you can ask, <em>nothing </em>has happened,” Gloss says grouchily. Almost similar to the people of the Capitol—most of the Career Victors hate it when the Games get boring. I guess it’s the mindset of the Careers, it’s just how they’ve been raised—but I feel a chill creep up my spine when I imagine thinking that something was <em>boring </em>because enough people hadn’t been murdered.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Mags murmurs to me, studying my face intently.</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” I lie, giving her a false smile. She doesn’t push the matter and we go back to watching the screens.</p><p>We watch the Cat and Mouse hunt for the rest of the day. Sometimes the Careers get close to the other alliance of tributes—but then they lose their path and wander about for a while before coming to another set of tracks.</p><p>There are no other deaths and I’m struck by the thought of whether or not I should be grateful. Less deaths means more days to keep Annie alive, but it’s more time for families to have hope. Then again, sometimes it hurts less when they don’t have any.</p><p>I go through the rest of the afternoon like a robot, dreading the evening. When I get to my client’s house, I put a fake grin on and gulp down glass after glass of wine.</p><p>I’m numb and tired by the time I make the slow walk back to my apartment. It takes up the last of my energy to beg Mags for information on Annie—but she has no news. Nothing of interest has happened in the Arena for almost an entire day. If it continues to be like this, the Arena is going to become a lot more dangerous.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(we're ignoring the logistics of having a Lord of the Rings quote in The Hunger Games)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Terry, Addison, Dylan, Max, Catherine. Ruby and Aaron. Ally and James,” I whisper the names of all the dead tributes over and over as I lay in my sleeping bag. The ground is fresh with morning dew and the cold chill is seeping into me. The embers of the fire still glow in the early-morning darkness. The sun’s rays have started to peek out from behind the mountain—so it has to be around 6 in the morning.</p><p>Being in the Arena has both helped and utterly destroyed my sense of time. Sometimes I can guess down to the minute what time it is, while in the evenings I can’t tell the difference between 5 o’clock and 9. There’s sunsets, nothing like my ocean at home—but at least it’s still there. Since it’s summer, the sunset take place later in the evening, so they do nothing to help with my time-telling.</p><p>Nobody else had died in almost 24 hours. It feels surreal—like a strange dream. Like maybe there’s some hope that all of this will just stop. They can’t force us to kill each other, can they?</p><p>Finnick warned me that if things got too boring, Snow would just use the Arena to kill us. Laying at our campsite with the other Careers as the sun rises on our third day of being in the Arena, I understand just how much there is to manipulate.</p><p>Poisoned berries or any other plant, any type of muttation, no fresh water <em>or </em>clean water. Drastic climate change, avalanche, forest fire. The possibilities are endless—and we all know that Snow has no boundaries.</p><p>My mind stops rambling on about ways the Arena can become more lethal—and starts reminding me of all the ways I can die. It’s a bad habit I’ve developed over the past few days and no matter what I do, I can’t stop myself from doing it.</p><p>Knife from one of the Careers. Spear through my heart. Being killed off after we try to separate from the Careers. Not having food or water. Another tribute drowning me in the dam. <em>No. </em>People from District 4 don’t drown. But there’s still plenty of other ways for me to die.</p><p>“Hey, it’s time to get up. The others think we’ll catch up to them today,” Kai says quietly, handing my water sack to me. In his other hand he has a piece of bread a small pile of berries. I eat them quickly, finishing them with a long sip of water, and start to pack up my backpack.</p><p>“Thanks,” I say, giving Kai a smile. I don’t know how any of this will end, but I know it will hurt if Kai dies. I’ve barely known him for a week—and he already feels like my brother. Ben hasn’t been given the chance to grow up, but if he had—I think he would have been like Kai. Maybe a little bit more annoying, but I am his older sister.</p><p>I don’t know how to express this to Kai—how much I need him already, how much I already feel like I know him, how much I want both of us to make it out alive—so I hope that my simple smile and thanks will be enough. I don’t remind myself that either of us could be dead within the hour.</p><p>“Alright, we’ve been close on their trail for almost two days now—so we’re going to find them today. We’ll finish them off and then we’ll head back to the Cornucopia, got it?” Garret says, glaring at each of us in turn. Everyone just nods, not daring to even open their mouths.</p><p>I’m a little surprised that we’re not going back to check on our Cornucopia guards, but it is the Careers. Having someone kill off one of their own just means one more tribute dead. The sky last night showed only two faces—Ally and James. The girl from Two and the boy from Ten. I’ve memorized their names and made sure that they will always stay in my memory. Because I can’t forget them—<em>I can’t let them be forgotten. </em>I don’t even know them, but at least someone other than their family will be mourning them.</p><p>In school, I was never good at memorizing and rattling off dates or names, but now it isn’t even hard. I don’t know if it’s my complete terror that I’ll forget one of their names, or my need for being able to remember that has made it easier.</p><p>“Annie, we need to go,” Kai says, pulling the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. I shake myself out of my daze and start following Garret and Sonya.</p><p>As we walk, I can’t help but wonder what today is going to be like. Have the Capitol citizens gotten bored yet? Are we going to catch up to this other group of tributes and murder them? Is the Arena going to start producing more ways to kill us?</p><p>“If the fight today gets bad, we need to get out of there. Mags said wait a couple days, and it’s been pretty calm—so she’d probably recommend waiting for a little bit longer, but if we’re given the chance I think we should leave,” Kai murmurs against me, then walks away to quickly join Garret at the front, pretending to laugh loudly at a joke he must have made. I’ve only interacted with Garret a little bit, but I can’t imagine it was <em>that </em>funny. I send a quick glance around me to make sure nobody else heard Kai—I don’t want to die yet.</p><p>Sonya stands nearby, but not close enough to have overheard Kai’s whispers. Besides, she’s told me her secret—so maybe she’ll keep silent if she overhears anything. Garret leads the group, and he now has Kai standing beside him. It feels odd that there is only four of us—we’re the Careers.</p><p>Every year when I would watch the Games, I would think of the Careers as animals. Hunting in large packs, killing and murdering everyone who was weaker than them. It’s a little ironic that now I’m one of them.</p><p>It’s hard, too, because now I’ve started to get to know them. Now they feel more like people. <em>How am I supposed to watch them die? How am I supposed to kill them? </em>Yes, they’re almost akin to animals—but even animals don’t deserve to die.</p><p>Once when I was a little girl, I couldn't have been older than 5 or 6, I found a small dog on the beach. I don’t know where it came from, but I went right up to it. Our old neighbors had owned a dog, so I knew that I should let it sniff my hand.</p><p>The poor thing’s fur was all matted and it had a cut on its front paw that must have been infected. I had first thought it was a puppy, but at a closer look it was older—its fur worn and gray from age.</p><p>I held out my hand to it and it immediately growled, baring its teeth at me. I yanked my hand back, terrified it would bite me. After a minute or two of standing, looking at each other in fear, the dog started to whimper. It gave <em>me </em>a second chance when I held out my hand again, and I carried it home, holding it close to my chest, keeping it safe in my arms.</p><p>My parents freaked out when I came home carrying a possibly rabid and feral dog—and now, remembering it, I guess they had good cause. But little me wouldn’t listen to them. I gave him a bath myself, brushing out his fur and whispering comforting words the entire time. He was shaking and shivering by the time I finished, so I wrapped him up in a towel and carried him downstairs—where I was met with my father’s stern look.</p><p>He sat me down at the kitchen table—where I obligingly sat, but refused to let go of the dog. Dad told me I couldn’t keep him, that we couldn’t take in a dog right now, and we have no idea where this dog came from.</p><p>I smile, remembering what I told him. <em>“We have to give him a second chance! There’s no collar, so what if his family just abandoned him? We can’t leave him! Can’t we give him a second chance? Please,” I begged, holding up the dog’s sad puppy eyes. </em></p><p>My dad softened and rubbed his eyes, looking tired. He walked out to go talk to my mom, and I held the dog. I whispered reassurances into his ear, promises that I didn’t know if I could keep. From the other room, I could hear raised voices and I strained my ears to try and understand what they were saying.</p><p>
  <em>“—give it a second chance.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh,” my mom said, her voice heavy. I think she might have been crying, and my dad puled her into a hug, because her voice became muffled.</em>
</p><p><em>“I just can’t not let her keep it. You’ve given me a second chance. Mags has, too. You’ve taken me in and loved me—even after what I’ve done.”" </em>My dad sounds so tired in that moment, and I didn’t understand any of his words then—and I still don’t.</p><p>I had forgotten about his words, about Mags and second chances. <em>What had my father done?  </em>I’ll ask Mags, I think defiantly. Because <em>I will </em>make it out of here alive. I will make it home to figure out what he was talking about.</p><p>When I was little, all I cared about was that I got to keep the dog. I was almost bursting with excitement when they walked out—I barely noticed my mom’s red eyes. They both nodded and I shrieked with joy.</p><p>The dog only lived for a few more years—he died right before Lizzy was born—but he lived a good life for his last years. I spoiled him rotten and took great care of him.</p><p>He almost reminds me of the Careers. They’ve been turned away from their families, their thoughts tuned to murder. Raised to kill. Growling at anyone who gets too close. Terrified to show weakness. Baring their teeth and raising their hackles. Fighting because it’s all they know how to do.</p><p>But nobody has given them a second chance—and they’ll be dead before it’s offered.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>We hike all throughout the morning, trying our best not to sound like trampling animals. We have a faint path to follow, curving around through the woods—but we have yet to explore any other parts of the Arena. The group of tributes we’re following seems to have deemed the woods as a safe spot—or a place they feel comfortable in their ability to hide from us. Garret stays in the front, always leading. I don’t get too close to him, afraid of how bloodthirsty he might be. I don’t want to be the closest tribute when he decides he’s had enough chasing and is ready to just kill someone.</p><p>It’s early afternoon by the time my stomach starts growling. I step on a twig to hide the noise, turning away from the glare Garret sends my way. We haven’t stopped for lunch yet, but Garret’s eyebrows have furrowed more and more as the day has gone on. His eyes are bright with anger and the need to take it out on somebody. We walk on in silence for a couple more minutes before Sonya dares to say something about it.</p><p>“Could we stop for a break? We haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast, and we might have more luck if we have energy to track them.” I’m glad that Sonya has the special ability to twist her words in a way that plays to the wants of others. Garret only gives a stiff nod—but even I notice the speed at which he devours his food.</p><p>Being with the Careers gives me a couple options for meals, which I’m extremely grateful for. I made sure to carefully pack in more meals than necessary for Kai and my packs, so that when we do split—we won’t be going hungry, at least for a few days. I munch on a granola bar and gulp down my water—kept refreshingly cold by a metal water bottle. Kai finds a bush of wild berries that we all agree are edible, which is a nice touch to our semi-meal, semi-snack.</p><p>“We need to get going,” Garret states briskly, brushing crumbs off his pants as he stands up. He needed the break as much as any of us did, but he seems to need to feel in control of everything.</p><p>I lose track of time as the sun pounds down on us—even under the cover of the trees, sweat still drips down my face and the back of my neck. In District Four we’re used to days of constant humidity and heat, but at least at home we have the ocean. Here it’s just trees after more trees. And it’s not even a dry heat. Everything is sticky—the air heavy and thick.</p><p>It reminds me of home, sending an unexpected pang into my heart. The temperature feels like that right before an afternoon thunderstorm. Maybe that’s what Snow is planning. To have a thunderstorm and herd us like dogs into a certain part of the Arena. Have the Gamemakers create lightning that starts a fire to lead us back to the Cornucopia.</p><p>I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost run into Sonya when she stops abruptly, standing right in front of me—unmoving.  </p><p>“Shhh,” Sonya whispers, putting her finger to her lips. I move beside her, straining my ears to hear something. Garret and Kai realize that half of their group has stopped, so they walk back to join us, sure to not let any sticks crunch under his feet. Standing, hidden by the trees, we listen. I tune out the sounds of the woods—the background noise that my mind has started to automatically filter. The bugs, the wind through the leaves, the creaking of the trees, birds chirping to each other.</p><p>My ears have surprisingly gotten better at picking out human-made sounds from nature. Sonya must have already been practicing listening, just listening—because, focusing intently, I can just barely hear the voices drifting in the air. I can’t make out any words, but I hear different voices (meaning it’s a group of tributes) and I don’t think they know we’re here. At least none of their voices are scared, panicked, or afraid. I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not that they might be completely unaware of our presence.</p><p>Am ambush would mean quicker deaths for them—but less chances of breaking away. I know Mags would want us to wait a couple more days, but Garret feels like a bomb about to go off and eventually they’ll have to kill off each other—and why shouldn’t they start with the weakest?</p><p>On the other hand, the group being alert of our presence would mean a fight—more deaths, maybe even a Career—but more of a chance to break away from the Careers.</p><p>Garret gestures to move forward and we creep along, extra careful not to make a sound. My eyes stay glued to the floor of the forest, helping me to avoid every twig or stick or unstable rock that might cause an unnatural sound.</p><p>It also gives me something to focus on other than the fight that is inevitable. To steer my thoughts away from the stray knife that could pierce my flesh, killing me—or causing me to suffer. I don’t want to die yet, but I know if I do—I don’t want it to be long and drawn out. I probably don’t have much say in the matter, but I just want it to be quick—like the small tracker they injected into my forearm. Like the pinpricks they poke into the tips of our fingers before the Reaping.</p><p>“Watch out,” Sonya warns, pointing to a rotting log. I loop around it and dig my fingernails into my palms. The sharp pain keeps me alert and keeps my mind away from death. Ahead of us, Garret holds up his hand, stopping our group’s trek.</p><p>My fingers automatically reach for my necklace when I realize how close we are to the other group of tributes. How close we are to death. The thing I am constantly trying to get away from, but seems to be like a thick fog on my life.</p><p>It covers all of my senses. I was old enough to understand death when my father died, so it isn’t a foreign concept to me—but this is overwhelming. It touches everything in this Arena. From the hovercraft that picks up the dead bodies with that cold metal claw and the birds that drop out of the sky after an arrow hits its heart. Everything is covered in death.</p><p>Even if you make it out alive, your life will forever be shadowed by it. Finnick is a Victor, but he’s lost his entire family. He could have lost me, but President Snow decided I was more useful alive. My family is dead because of our forbidden romance. Because Finnick is a Victor and as soon as he stepped outside the walls of the Arena, he was forced into the chains Snow himself forged for him.</p><p>Again, I’m hit with resolve to fight against Snow. Not to hate him, but to stop what he’s doing. Hatred won’t get you anymore—but standing up against him will. I can’t do much, but I’ll stay strong. <em>I won’t let him break me.</em> I won’t let Snow get the satisfaction of my death.</p><p>“Ready?” Kai asks quietly, his knuckles white from gripping his sword too tightly. In my own hands, I hold a similar weapon—yet my movements are much stiffer and completely different from Kai’s natural ease.</p><p>I give him a tight smile and nod, both complete lies. I’m not ready, and I’ll never be—but I don’t have a choice. <em>I have to go on with this. I have to stay alive. I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>Time seems to slow down, and my mind feels disconnected from my body as I watch the scene unfold.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>               </p><p>Garret is the first to run into the clearing, knives in his hands and fire in his eyes. My body is numb as he uses surprise to his advantage and stabs another tribute in the heart. From my guess and by the speed at which his body slumps to the ground—he died instantly. My hands go to my mouth to contain my scream—of fear or sadness or terror or surprise, I don’t know.</p><p>Now there’s three of them and Garret takes on the girl, yelling something at the rest of us. I can’t hear him—or my brain just can’t comprehend what he’s saying. Kai pushes me behind a tree—he must have noticed my shocked expression. He quickly runs away, calling back to me.</p><p>“Stay there! I’ll come back to grab you, we don’t have any other choice now!” His words ring true. <em>We don’t </em>have any other option. And it’s all my fault. Because Garret couldn’t have missed the complete lack of bloodthirstiness on my face. And in that brief moment of truth, he could have already decided that I would be the next dead tribute as soon as we deal with this group.</p><p>My heart races as I collapse against the tree. The bark digs into my skin, scraping it, but I don’t care. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>In through the nose. Out through the mouth.</p><p>There’s nothing I can do except wait, and I hate it. People are being murdered and I was told to stay behind. <em>You would have gotten killed. </em>But aren’t some of their deaths my fault because I’m letting it happen? I’m not even trying to stop Garret. <em>He would have just killed you, not even giving it a second thought. </em></p><p>I know my thoughts could go in circles, around and around, so I try to focus on what’s going on around me—even though it’s barely any better than my thoughts.</p><p>I can see arrows being fired into the group of fighting tributes, but I don’t know which tribute is shooting. I am almost certain that it’s none of the Careers. I don’t dare to lean too far out of my hiding spot, but I know Sonya must be in the middle of it all. From what I can tell, she’s good at hand-to-hand combat and knife fighting, so I have some hope that she’ll make it out alive.</p><p>I watched as Kai and Garret both ran into the fight, so the other group knows of their presence—and wouldn’t give them the chance to sneak away and shoot off arrows. Besides, I know Kai is a little above average at sword fighting and Garret has his knives, so neither has ever really used a bow. I shudder to think of an arrow lodging itself in my head, so I tuck myself even tighter into the bottom of the tree.</p><p>When we first heard the group, we listened closely and could make out four different voices. If we counted right, then there’s only seven people in the clearing fighting. Six if one is hidden in the woods.</p><p>I can only see so much—and there’s not that many of them, but it feels like there’s so much more going on. I try to find Kai in the chaos, but I only recognize Garret. There’s only been one canon boom, so only one tribute has died. I hate that I find myself surprised—I guess I wasn’t expecting this group to put up so much of a fight.</p><p>On the edge of my vision, I see Sonya wrestling with a boy who looks so much larger than her. Sonya’s muscles are much more defined than my own—hers are strong and tan from days working to harvest under the hot sun. My own skin is only somewhat tan, the rest covered in freckles—my father had pale skin and I got more of him than my mother. However, compared to Finnick and even Sonya, I look like the light sand that covers the beach.</p><p>My stomach flutters with nerves—and fear for Sonya—when I see the other boy reach for the knife at her waist. I pull up the extra fabric around the collar of my shirt to stifle my scream. I can’t let them know that I’m here, and I can’t distract Sonya. If I were to be the cause of her death, then I would never forgive myself.</p><p>I’m reminded of how skilled she is when she gains the upper-hand again and is able to knock him out. She uses her knee, pressed against his neck, to cut off the blood flow to his brain. I remember someone at the training center telling about how useful it is to make other tributes go unconscious. At least—I think that’s what she did, until I hear the distinct boom of the canon. Before I can even begin to react, Kai is by my side—dragging me up.</p><p>“We…need…go,” he pants, beginning to run, a slight limp in his leg. He’s been fighting, but still has better stamina than I do—but he waits for me, making sure that I don’t get too far behind. I follow him through the underbrush and under the canopy of the trees, until the only sound is the pounding of our boots against the forest floor and the panting of our breath.</p><p>Kai pauses, and we listen for any other sounds. The voices of the tributes is long gone, blown away by wind and distance. The chaos and clashing of fighting is gone, too; no more spears banging into swords, arrows whistling through the air, or knives flashing before they dig into flesh.</p><p>“What—?” Kai starts as we hear a twinkling of bells. A sponsor? Already? Who would want to send something to two tributes who just cut off their alliance with the <em>Careers?</em> The canister falls gently into my outreached hands and I open it—not knowing what I’ll find.</p><p>Nestled inside the metal container are two blueberry muffins. They are fresh and let out a warm aroma into the air.</p><p>
  <em>Finnick. </em>
</p><p>I can’t breathe.</p><p>“Does this mean something to you?” Kai asks. I force my lungs to work—to take a breath, remembering that Kai is the only person within our group of tributes and Victors for District Four that doesn’t know why this means so much.</p><p>“We made the right choice, and I think it’s also to show that we’re safe now—nobody is following us. The muffin—it means something to me,” I say, glancing around. We’re still in the woods, so it’ll be better if we find somewhere else to stay before night comes. “But I think we should get out of the woods—maybe go down by the river?” Kai nods, agreeing, and we take another moment to drink water before beginning our hike out of the woods.</p><p>Time still seems to be in an odd blur as we walk under the darkening sky. The fight with the Careers and the other group of tributes seems to have taken hours—yet it was only a matter of minutes before we escaped.</p><p>By the time we make it out of the woods, it’s almost sunset, and we pause for a moment to eat our muffins. I’d grabbed us a water filter from the supplies at the Cornucopia, so at least we’ll be able to refill our water bottles.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Kai asks, and I hear my father in his voice. He seems to be everywhere today. In my memories, in Kai’s voice, in the death all around me.</p><p>If I had a bad day, or if I was just being particularly petulant, he would ask me <em>“Do you want to talk about it?” </em>Then, I would either tell him what was bothering me or cuddle up to his side and let his hug take away my problem.</p><p>After he died, I would go out to the beach and talk to the ocean—to the only physical thing I had left of him. The only reminder I felt I had of him. I would talk to him about it. Tell him how much it hurt. How much I missed him. How nothing could fill the ache in my heart. I would tell him about Ben starting his first day of school and Lizzy practicing surfing. Some days, I would just go out there and lay on the sand, crying. Pretending that the soft ground beneath me was my father’s arms, encircling me.</p><p>“Annie?” Kai taps my shoulder hesitantly. I jerk away, and look at him in fear.</p><p>“I’m sorry, it’s just—everything is too much today. I’m sorry.” I look away, not meeting his eyes. I can’t see any pity there. <em>I won’t let Snow break me. I’ll stay strong. </em>I promised Finnick, I’ve promised myself. I have to stay strong—I don’t have any other choice. <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth. </em>“I’m fine, we should find a safe spot to sleep and hide out for a couple days before dark.” Kai stands up and flinches a little when he puts weight on his leg.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he says before I can even open my mouth. I let out a little laugh and he smiles. Neither one of us is fine, but we’ve both lied about it within the past couple minutes.</p><p>“Let me look at it,” I say, pushing him gently to sit back down. He turns so I can see the back of his leg and pulls up the bottom part of his pants. There’s a gash and smeared blood, but it doesn’t look deep.</p><p>I grab out a clean, white bandage from my pack to wrap around his cut. I use the side of his pant leg and some water to try and clean it out, but once we get more water it’ll be easier. Kai squirms as I pour more water on to wash away any other dirt that might cause infection.</p><p>“Stop squirming! You’re as bad as Ben!” I exclaim after a couple failed tries to wrap the bandage tight around his calf. Our smiles falter a little with the reminder of my dead brother—and the memories of his sister that it brings up. He actually stops squirming—which is something Ben never did—and I’m able to finish wrapping his calf.</p><p>“Can we go now?” Kai asks impatiently. I give him a look and put away the rest of the bandage roll, exaggerating my movements to take more time. His leg vibrates with pent-up energy and I roll my eyes, laughing a little.</p><p>“We can go now,” I clarify, giving him a hand to help him stand up. We aren’t running from any other tributes, but we are racing the sun—so we keep a quick pace.</p><p>We don’t say much to each other as we walk along, but we make little comments about the Arena and how different it is from home to keep ourselves from falling too deep into our thoughts.</p><p>Outside of the woods, the Arena is mostly open plains. In the distance there’s a mountain, and I wonder how many tributes ran to it—to try and find a cave to wait out in. In the middle, right next to the Cornucopia, is the lake that connects to the dam. There’s nothing closed in around it, so Kai and I hike down the slope to the river that runs through the bottom of the Arena. It passes by the bottom of the dam, curving a path into the woods and by the mountain.</p><p>“Here,” Kai says, pointing to a small cave set near the bottom of a small waterfall. “Look, it’s perfect.” I grin, happy that at least I’ll be able to sleep somewhere safe.</p><p>“It really is."</p><p>“Get some sleep, I’ll take the first shift,” Kai says, walking into the cave. It’s cool and damp—a nice change from the heat of the day.</p><p>“Promise me you’ll wake me up—you need rest just as much as I do,” I say, setting my backpack down to use as a pillow. Kai nods, but it isn't very reassuring. I don't want him trying to let me sleep just because I look peaceful or am actually able to fall asleep. “Promise?”</p><p>Kai lets out a sigh. “Fine, I promise.”</p><p>“Goodnight, Kai,” I say, wishing I were talking to Finnick or Mags. I turn myself so I can see the opening of the cave, where Kai now sits. My eyes drift close and fear prickles along my spine at the thought of the nightmares I'll have to face when sleep takes me. </p><p>“Goodnight, Annie,” Kai says, but it doesn’t sound like him. It must be my mind warping his words because I hear Finnick—and in the light from the sunset I see his silhouette, standing guard against the world.</p><p>But Finnick isn’t here.</p><p>And I feel all alone, stuck in this Arena. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Finnick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a long-ish chapter, but I hope to get my word count up as I develop the story more. (also sorry I'm kind of late for posting this, I'm going to try and post once a week but I put this one off again)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What were their names? Tell me their names! Please,” Annie is begging me, pleading me for their names. “Please, I need to know their names!” Her voice is frantic and she sounds so helpless. <em>Whose names? </em></p><p>I open my eyes, my pulse racing. “Annie?” I ask, but I know the answer.</p><p>Annie isn’t here. She isn’t with me. Her voice is coming from the screen. The bed—the <em>couch</em> beside me is cold and empty without her by my side.</p><p>“Finnick, she’s fine. Both of them are safe now,” Mags say from somewhere behind me. I sigh and rub sleep from my eyes. I know that Mags is just trying to reassure me and ensure that I don’t make a fool of myself in front of the other Victors—but she doesn’t have to treat me like a child. I know what it’s like in that Arena. I know how scared you get and how hungry and how tired and exhausted you are from everything going on.</p><p>But I can’t tell her any of that because she knows, too. She’s been in the Arena and she’s watched hundreds of children die. So, I keep my mouth closed and turn my attention back to the screen.</p><p>“I think it was Dean and then something with an A. Andrew? No, Aaron, maybe? Or Alex?” Kai tries his best to recall the name of the fallen tribute, but I’m able to just look at the wall and see his name.</p><p>It brings a dull ache of pain into my chest every time I have to look at the wall. Both of my tributes this year are alive, but it hurts so much more when you feel responsible for their deaths. Sometimes you wonder what would have happened if you told them more, if you talked a little faster—if we went through more material, or if we’d trained a little harder. <em>Would any of them still be alive? </em></p><p>On the wall, eleven pieces of paper stare at me. Eleven dark papers that are all the thought that the Capitol puts in towards the dead tributes. A single piece of paper, soon to be thrown away and discarded. An empty spot on the wall, until another face takes its place.</p><p>My eyes wander over all the names, looking for names that start with A. <em>Addison, Ally—no it must be a boy. </em>Both of the girls died before Annie and Kai broke off their Career alliance. <em>Aaron—no, he died in the bloodbath. </em>I look further down the wall and see a black paper next to a girl from Eleven.</p><p>“<em>Asher</em>, it’s Asher, Kai. Please remember, please,” I whisper to myself, a note of pleading in my voice similar to Annie’s. I want Annie to know what his name was, for whatever reason—but I also need her to not make a huge deal out of the tribute's names.</p><p>I hate myself for it—that my mind immediately goes in this direction, but we can’t have sponsors thinking that Annie is getting attached to the dead tributes. They’ll stop supporting her if they think she’s mad.</p><p>On screen, she’s whispering something to herself. When I put in an earpiece to hear her voice magnified to be able to make out the words, I finally understand what she’s saying.</p><p>“Terry, Addison, Dylan, Max, Catherine. Ruby, Aaron. Ally, James, and Dean. Terry, Addison, Dylan, Max—”</p><p>“Asher! That’s what his name was,” Kai says triumphantly. “I don’t know why you need to know, but I remembered.” I see Annie visibly sigh in relief, and she begins saying the names over again—this time with the added addition of Asher.</p><p>“Thank you,” she says quietly, not meeting his eyes. I wish I could somehow go into the screen and sit next to her—holding her tight. Whispering to her that she’s going to make it out of there alive—that’s she’s going to come home to me and Mags. S<em>he has to come home. She has to. </em></p><p> <em>Fi</em><em>innick,” </em>Mags warns, moving to sit next to me. Her frame is small, but she’s still able to block my face from the other Victors. “Finnick, you can’t. Not right now.” Her voice is quiet and tight with fear.</p><p>Even though it’s Mags warning me, it feels like Snow. His words, constantly reminding me that I am not in control of how I feel. Taunting me that everything I express is going to be evaluated by the Capitol—so just always appear happy. Don’t reveal your pain, your anger, your sadness. Just put on a smile.  </p><p>“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling my features into an easy grin. Mags startles for a moment—and I don’t have to wonder why.</p><p>Being in the Capitol more often, especially this year, has made me more practiced at slipping in and out of facial expressions. It’s helped me learn how to easily make tears turn into laughter. Snow has forced me to be this person—a person who has to have two faces at all times unless he’s at home. Even then, I have to be my Capitol self sometimes. During the Reapings, at the market, or walking around town. Only around Mags and Annie can I be myself.</p><p>Sometimes I can’t even be myself around them. I have to go out to the water and let it wash over me, taking away my pain. Some days, it’s just easier if I don’t have to see their pitying faces. Even though Mags has been through it and Annie cares so deeply. It’s just easier if they don’t know how much I hurt.</p><p>“It’s okay, we just need to have one less thing to worry about right now,” Mags says, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “We don’t need Victors trying to get you in trouble with Snow.” <em>Again, </em>I add silently. Snow almost had to come yell at me in person, but I’ve been working on paying attention when I go to my clients—so if I don’t do anything else, I’ll be off the hook with Snow until next year. Or at least until the Victory Tour.</p><p>The Victory Tour. If Annie doesn’t win then that means she’s dead. And Snow wouldn’t miss an opportunity to remind me of her. He’d make the Victor say something about her just to make me mad. Say that it’s a shame that she has no family left to remember her. Just to remind me that there’s nobody there to mourn her—even he might be able to stop Mags from mourning outwardly.</p><p>“Finnick,” Mags says, pulling me from my thoughts again. I shake my head and my eyes refocus on the screen.</p><p>Annie and Kai were able to pack away extra food, so—at least for a couple days—they don’t have to worry about finding a lot of food. On screen, they’re exploring around their hiding place and setting traps. <em>Good. </em>Annie may not want to kill another tribute, but at least she can set a good trap. And she’s not exactly scared of killing animals, however kind she is. After all, we did grow up in a fishing district.</p><p>“What time is it?” I ask, looking around to find the clock on the wall. It never changes its place, but I always forget where it is.</p><p>“Almost noon. You slept for most of this morning, but you we awake all last night,” Mags answers, giving me a pointed look.</p><p>“My client let me off a little early and then I didn’t want the Careers trying to follow Annie and Kai,” I say, not meeting her eyes. It <em>was </em>true. I just left out the part where I can’t willingly get my body to go to sleep. I can’t close my eyes without seeing Annie’s face.</p><p>“Fine,” Mags says and I’m grateful that she leaves the topic alone.</p><p>Our attention reverts back to the screen, a place my eyes have grown accustomed to scanning. Ensuring that Annie will be safe.</p><p>I check the video feed showing Annie and Kai, for the hundredth time, and make sure that they’re okay before I move on to the other tributes.</p><p>In another section, the boy Career that had been apart of their alliance is walking back with the girl—Sonya, I think her name was—to meet up with their fellow Careers at the Cornucopia. I glance up at the wall to check for her name, after all—Annie seemed trusting enough to her that she confessed her secret, I should make the effort to learn her name.</p><p>“How did we let them get away? How did we miss that? How?” Garret asks (I found his name and picture up on the wall, too. He’s from District Two, and it doesn’t surprise me), interrogating Sonya. She doesn’t say anything, just lets him vent. It’s a little amusing to watch someone get so worked up because he managed to lose half of his alliance within the span of a single afternoon.</p><p>I tune out the rest of the conversation, but stifle a laugh when I see the looks Sonya sends at the trees—where the cameras are hidden.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Enobaria sneers from across the room. I wipe the look of amusement off my face, but as soon as she turns her glare to another Victor—I meet Mags’ eyes and grin. It’s a real smile, and I see one spread on her face as well.</p><p>“We should check on some of the other tributes, see if there are any other groups forming,” Mags says—and even though her smile is replaced with something more professional, I still see the glint of humor in her eyes. She switches the screen to show another two tributes that I recognize.</p><p>There’s a girl and a boy, both walking slowly. When I look closer, I see the girl holding a piece of cloth to her shoulder—either a knife wound or an arrow wound. The boy is limping—on his leg his pants cling to a spot that’s red from blood.</p><p>They must have been apart of the group that the Careers attacked—the ones that gave Annie a way to get out. It feels odd, but inside of me I feel indebted to these two tributes. They were apart of the fight that allowed Annie and Kai to sneak away without Garret or Sonya noticing—at least for a couple minutes.</p><p>“—Cornucopia. We have the supplies and you know how to make it work. We can do this, even if there’s two of us,” the girl—named Olive—was saying. The boy, Mack, nods in agreement. They stop walking and Mack pulls something out of a backpack.</p><p>I look towards the video showing what the Capitol is displaying to the Districts and see what Mack is showing Olive. It’s a bomb. Or at least that’s what it looks like. I have a faint memory of Mack talking during his interview about using wires to kill people and when I look at his eyes on the screen—I see the glint of bloodthirstiness mostly reserved for Careers.</p><p>There’s a faint trace of hesitation on the girl’s face, a hint of fear. Mack notices and shows his enthusiasm immediately.</p><p>“It’s going to work perfectly! I made it myself, so there’s only a small possibility of it going wrong,” he says and I roll my eyes. If his face weren’t so genuinely sincere, I would think he was joking.</p><p>“Overconfident, much?” I say to Mags. She laughs a little and I turn the screen back to Annie and Kai—just to check on them.</p><p>“You were a little like that, too, when you were like that.”</p><p>“Not that bad, right?” I say, aghast, glancing at the small screen displaying the faces of Mack and Olive. Mags doesn’t respond and I ignore the growing smile on her face in favor of intently studying the screen.</p><p>Annie and Kai’s position hasn’t changed much, but we continue to focus on them for a few more minutes. I think Mags just wants to convince me that Annie is okay—that she’s safe.</p><p>Mags is about to change the screen display to another tribute when I see Annie stop moving—freezing in a clearing. There’s nothing around her but trees and rocks—yet her eyes are wide, like she saw a ghost.</p><p>“Kai?” she whispers, turning to look behind her. For a moment, her face is filled with terror—but then she sets her features in a look of determination. A warm sensation of pride spreads through me. She’s going to stay strong. She’s going to come home to me.</p><p>“What does she hear?” Mags murmurs to herself, scrolling through different screens to figure out what startled Annie.</p><p>I know I should be helping her look, but my eyes stay glued to Annie’s face.</p><p>
  <em>She can’t die now. She’s going to come home. I’m going to hold her again. We’re going to bake together and I’ll mess it up, but she’ll laugh and smile and kiss me. She’s not going to die now. She’s strong. She’ll make it out alive. She’ll be okay. She’s going to be okay. She has to be okay. She must be okay. </em>
</p><p>“No—” Mags says, her hand stopping the rest of her words. On another screen is the face of a girl, a malicious grin spreading on her face as she holds a single finger up to her mouth. Silently, she eases off the twig she stepped on and walks away into the woods. Away from Annie.</p><p>“No. No, no, no, no, <em>no.” </em><em>She’s going to be okay. She’s has to stay alive. She’s going to come home to me. She’s going to come home. Annie is coming out of that Arena alive. She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be—</em></p><p>“Finnick, there’s only one of her and two of them.” I turn to Mags and look at her, tears in my eyes. My heart pounds even though the girl walked away. Even though Annie is safe, at least for now. <em>No. She’s going to be okay. </em>She’s going to make it out of there. She is going to be safe for the rest of her life because she has to be. Because <em>I can’t live without her. </em></p><p>“I can’t lose her,” I murmur as quietly as I can. “I can’t—”</p><p>“Shhh,” Mags says, giving me a tight hug. “Annie is going to be alright. We're going to get her out of there. She’s smart and Kai can fight. Even if Annie won’t, he’s kind enough to save her.”</p><p>“But did you see the look in her eyes? Did you see how evil her smile was? Did you?” I say, my voice frantic even though it’s barely above a whisper. I know I sound like a child, <em>but I can’t lose her. </em></p><p>“I did, Finnick. But did you see the look in Annie’s eyes? The determination?” Mags argues, successfully shutting me up. Because <em>I did </em>see the look in Annie’s eyes. I did see the fierce look of bravery that only shines through every once in a while. The pure flash of her strength that makes my love for her even greater.</p><p>Mags doesn’t move her eyes from my face, and I give in. “I did. I saw it.”</p><p>“Then don’t doubt her.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Finnick, you need to leave,” Mags says, her voice quiet from beside me. I look towards her, asking her—<em>begging her </em>to let me stay here. To let me watch over Annie instead of laying in a bed with a client that I don’t love.</p><p>“Finnick,” someone trills from the doorway. I look over and see an overly dressed woman—who looks like she’s already drunk.</p><p>“Just give me a minute,” I say, giving her a grin, the perfect Capitol smile that says <em>you are my everything. </em>The perfect lie.</p><p>“Finnick—” Mags starts, then stops—not knowing what to say. “Finnick, you need to go to your client. Yes, a girl is following Annie, but nothing will happen until tomorrow.”</p><p>“You don’t know that,” I mumble, but a look from Mags makes me close my mouth. She grabs my hands and squeezes them in an act of reassurance.</p><p>“I don’t, but I know tributes. I know that she isn’t <em>that </em>confident. Like I said earlier, there’s two of them and one of her. They’re going to survive the night, I promise you that.”</p><p>“You can’t promise things like that,” I argue, pulling my hands away. Nobody can promise anyone’s safety in the Arena.</p><p>“But I am. And if my promise is broken then you can take out your anger in any way you want.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t punch you, Mags. You’re like my grandma. Nobody punches their grandma,” I say and see a small smile spread on her face in return.</p><p>“Then you can punch a pillow,” she says, gesturing to the plentiful amount spread around us.</p><p>“Nah, that doesn’t give you the same satisfaction.”</p><p>“Then Enobaria it is,” Mags whispers conspiratorially. I laugh a little, forgetting for a moment that a client is waiting to pull me away from Annie. Away from the screen that is my only connection to her—other than our necklaces.</p><p>I send a quick glance over to the doorway to see another Victor flirting with my client. <em>Good. </em>I’ll get a few extra minutes with Mags.</p><p>But I know that they won’t be worth anything because now that I’ve reminded myself of Snow and my client—I can’t forget them. I can’t let a joke with Mags distract me.</p><p>“Mags—,” I try to say, but only a whisper comes out—hoarse and quiet. I open my mouth but I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything but see Annie’s face. <em>Annie. </em>I can’t lose her tonight. <em>I’m going to lose her tonight and there’s nothing I can do about it. </em>I won’t even be able to watch it. I’ll be stuck with some Capitol client who takes pleasure in watching people die.</p><p>“You need to go,” Mags says, but her voice is almost harsh and her eyes stony. They soften when she sees the look that must be clearly written on my face. “We don’t need Snow getting mad. Remember, if you act up then Annie’s as good as dead. Do you hear me, Finnick?” Mags grabs my chin and forces me to look her in the face. “We are going to get her out of there alive, but we’re a team. This is a team. And if only she stays strong, then we’re going to have an issue.”</p><p>“I need to do something! I don’t want to just lounge around with clients and whisper sweet words to them when all I want to do is hold Annie in my arms. I don’t want to be a puppet for Snow anymore. I want to be in control of my own life!” I whisper angrily. Mags pulls me into her arms and I feel so small again. So fragile. And so, so tired.</p><p>“I know, I know,” she murmurs, holding me tight before pulling away and wiping any emotion from her face. “I will watch Annie and Kai until you come back. And you will spend your entire time with your client.” Mags studies my face for a moment before sighing. “It’ll be no use if I tell you not to worry, won’t it.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s fine. I’m worried, too. And I have both of you to be worried about. But you just need to wait a few more years. It’ll all be over soon. And Annie will be safe and we’ll be a family again and soon there’ll be a world where you two can be together. In full view of everyone.”</p><p>A far-away look appears on Mags’ face and I wonder what she’s imagining. A world where Annie and I can walk down the street, holding hands. A wedding on the beach where two people say ‘I do’ and Mags is the one to cheer the loudest. A summer night, sitting out on the beach—with kids running all around and a soft smile on Annie’s face as she sits next to Mags.</p><p>“Go,” she says quietly, pushing me towards my client. It’s more of a command, and I follow it after a quick glance at Annie’s face.</p><p>It’s past dinnertime—on screen Annie and Kai are finishing a meal of rabbit and wild berries—and I would have forgotten if Mags hadn’t practically shoved food down my throat.</p><p>“Finnick!” The girl exclaims when I pull her towards me and out into the hallways. She looks young and is probably a child of some Gamemaker or high-ranking official. She can’t be younger than me, but her clothing if frivolous and a perfect example of Capitol fashion.</p><p>Her hair is a bob of tight ringlets dyed bubblegum pink and her makeup matches exactly. Her dress is frilly and very pink—I’m suddenly very glad that Annie doesn’t wear clothes that colorful or bright.</p><p>“What’s your name?” I whisper into her ear as she leads us to her apartment. She giggles and plays with a piece of her hair.</p><p>“Brigitta, but please call me Britta. It’s what all my friends call me,” she says, batting her eyelashes at me. I let a slow smile spread across my face.</p><p>“Brigitta,” I say, letting the syllables roll off my tongue. I make my face look thoughtful for a moment, then smile down at her. “Britta fits you much better. Now, why don’t you show me inside.”</p><p>We don’t say much as we walk into her apartment and I look around—reminding myself that these people grew up in a completely different world.</p><p>Art sculptures and paintings cover the walls—no use except for their beauty. Couches, color-coordinated pillows, rugs, and so many other unnecessary commodities fill the apartment. Britta even has a closet specifically for all of her shoes.</p><p>It shouldn’t shock me anymore, but it still does.</p><p>In outer Districts, children are s<em>tarving. </em>But here, people waste money on practically anything.</p><p>“My parents gave me most of this,” Britta starts, disdainfully poking a pillow. I find the wine cooler in the kitchen and pour of both glasses, preparing myself for a long speech about how <em>misunderstood </em>she is and how much <em>her parents just don’t get it. </em></p><p>“It looks lovely,” I say—not knowing if she hates the decorations or loves it. It’s a noncommittal sentence that can be changed later on, so Snow doesn’t get angry reports from clients that complain because I have bad taste in décor.</p><p>“I suppose so,” she says, sighing as she takes the glass of wine. “It’s just—they picked it all out for me, not even giving me a choice. And it doesn’t suit me! Everything is all adult colors—nothing fun, nothing bright. Just dull, old, <em>boring </em>colors.”</p><p>Britta continues talking and I talk a little—but just enough to keep the conversation going. I don’t want to lie about anything else tonight. Only about half my mind is actually paying a little attention to her—the other half devoted to Annie.</p><p><em>Is she okay? </em>Mags would get you if she weren’t. <em>What if they’re dead. </em>You would know. People would feel that, right? Drop their tea cup and everything? <em>What if that girl is going to kill them tonight? </em>Kai can fight and Annie’s smart. Mags’ words.</p><p>“—Games. And I absolutely <em>love </em>when they do all the interviews with their families! It’s just so interesting!” Britta is saying, but I only caught the end of her sentence.</p><p>“What was that?” I ask, smiling as if I’m so caught up her that I forgot to listen. A blush creeps up on her neck as she gestures around with a remote controller.</p><p>“Do you mind if I put on the Games? This year has been pretty boring, so I like to keep it on so I don’t miss it if there’s anything interesting. I can record it, but it’s just so much better live! Besides,” she says, rolling her eyes. “every time I record it, my friends always spoil it before I get a chance to watch it. It’s so annoying because I don’t want to know who dies yet! I want to watch it for myself, not hear it from someone.”</p><p>“That’s not very kind of them,” I say, the wine glass in my hand forgotten as the blank screen fills with color. If I weren’t so intent on making sure that Annie was safe—that she’s okay—I would be internally furious at the Capitol. At the fact that people treat the death of tributes like the death of your favorite character in a book.</p><p>“I know! I tell them, ‘You wouldn’t like if I spoiled it for you!’ But they just keep doing it,” Britta complains, getting up to pour herself more wine. On the screen, I can see a view of three tributes sitting around, clearly planning <em>something. </em>Britta must have a lot of time on her hands, because she starts narrating for me—somehow muting the voices of Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman.</p><p>“The brown-haired one is Mack, the boy from Three. And the girl, Olive, is from Seven. The blonde girl is Ashlee, and she just joined them. Mack and Olive were in a fight with the Careers before the got away, but they lost two of their group. Now, Ashlee found them and they made an alliance. Mack made a bomb and tomorrow they’re going to blow up the Cornucopia.”</p><p>The video changes to show the Careers, the screen split. On the left is the three at the Cornucopia and the right shows Sonya and Garret. I don’t really care about the Careers at the Cornucopia, so I focus on the right side of the screen. Sonya’s on watch and next to her, Garret is sound asleep and snoring.</p><p>“That’s Sonya,” Britta say, wrinkling her nose. “I liked her at the beginning, but not anymore.” <em>Yeah, because she didn’t try to make you like her. </em>That must have been her plan, though. To get the Capitol to dislike her, so when it comes down to it—she dies. If you have nothing left to live for, then what's the point?</p><p>“What—?” Britta says, leaning forward to look at the screen. I hadn’t seen anything unusual, but I mirror her movements and see Sonya packing away her sleeping bag and stealing extra supplies. Garret hasn’t moved at all and she starts walking into the woods. Sonya doesn’t even spare a glance back at Garret—whom she’s left all alone in the middle of the woods. He can’t be more than a half-day hike from the other Careers, but still.</p><p>“Why would she leave?” Britta says immediately, once the screen turns to another tribute hiding in a tree.</p><p>“Maybe she just didn’t trust the Careers anymore,” I say. “Especially since their numbers have been dwindling fast.”</p><p>“Yeah, they are kind of falling apart. But it’s barely interesting! Nobody has even died yet today! Half the tributes are just sitting in trees, waiting.”</p><p>I don’t have a good comeback to her statement, so we sit in silence for awhile. Her parents probably know Snow personally and wanted her to have a boyfriend or something, so they set this up. Britta doesn’t seem to want much of anything other than another person to vent to. Or narrate the Games to.</p><p>I keep glancing at the screen so I don’t miss it when they show Annie again—here I can’t just click a button and see her live feed—but I let my eyes wander over all the paintings.</p><p>They get stuck on a picture of a sun setting over an ocean, but it’s still in the sky—almost to the water, but not quite. The rays of its light touch the water and the colors are spot-on, but I force myself to move on because it hurts too much. It hits too close to real life.</p><p>Because we’re stuck, forced to be away from each other. Reaching out to be with each other, but stuck. Annie in the Arena, me in the Capitol. If only our love could break down barriers. Then we’d be forever in each other’s arms, never apart.</p><p>From beside me, I hear Britta make a sound of excitement—and scan the screen, looking for the cause of it. I see the dark eyes of the girl—the one who’s hunting Annie.</p><p>“That’s Vivian!” Britta says. “She’s been following Annie and Kai, but I don’t know when she’s going to attack. But I don’t know if I’m ready because I haven’t decided who I want to cheer for.”</p><p>“Why not?” I say, silently begging her to keep talking. Her words pierce me and make me hate Snow even more.</p><p>On screen, Vivian is sharpening her knives and glances up, like she can feel the cameras on her. A smile just as evil as the one this morning spreads over her face and she tilts her head, as if she can hear the sound of her knife piercing Annie or Kai.</p><p>“Annie looks like she’ll put up a fight and Kai is really good with his sword—so I know it’ll get bloody. Vivian looks really good at knife fighting and she’s got these cool ninja stars, but then again—Annie seems so sweet. I want her to go back to her boyfriend! And Kai has his two little sisters, and his story about them was so adorable, it almost made me cry! But Vivian is all on her own and she’s so confident and I just don’t know which side will win.”</p><p>It’s so strange to hear our strategy coming out of a Capitol citizen’s mouth. To hear that all of it worked—at least on someone.</p><p>Thankfully, Vivian’s face goes away— and is quickly replaced by Annie’s. She’s awake, staring off into the distance from the mouth of the cave. Behind her, I can see the dark shape of Kai in his sleeping bag.</p><p>“See,” Britta says, as if I can’t see Annie on the screen. “She just looks so nice and I don’t want her dead.” <em>She is nice. She’s the sweetest person to ever walk this planet. She’s too kind and I don’t deserve her. She’s too good for this world.</em></p><p>The screen turns again and Britta shuts it off—apparently tired of watching the Arena. She turns to face me and I prepare myself for another night of pleasing clients.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, I have to go. I promise I’ll show you around the lounge sometime, but Mags and I have a meeting with possible sponsors today,” I lie, prying Britta’s hands off of me. I must have fallen asleep with her and it’s already almost 8 in the morning. <em>It's already been so much time without seeing her. Without making sure that she's okay. </em></p><p>“But it’s so early,” Britta pouts.</p><p>“I know,” I say, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But we need to go help make the Games more interesting!” She perks up a little at the thought of that and falls back against her pillows. Her eyes shut almost immediately after and I try my best to close her apartment door quietly behind me.</p><p>It’s a short walk back to the building with the Victor’s lounge, but I end up jogging it because walking was just too slow.</p><p>“Slow down,” Haymitch warns, leaning drunken against the wall outside the lounge. I roll my eyes at him and force my jog to a gentle walk. “Better,” he says before leaning to throw up in a potted plant.</p><p>“Mags,” I say, rushing over to our spot in the corner. She greets me with a hug and kind words.</p><p>“You haven’t missed much of anything. Sonya left the Career alliance last night and—”</p><p>“I know,” I say, cutting her off. “My client put on some of the Games last night. She turned it off after it showed Annie and Kai.”</p><p>“So you know that they’re safe. And that Annie made it through the night, alive and unscathed—like I promised.” Mags’ smile is a little more teasing at this point and I’m grateful for it. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Mags asks, her voice sounding resigned and tired. She couldn't have slept much last night, but that isn’t because of dreams. <em>That’s my fault. Because I asked her.</em></p><p>“A little. I fell asleep after midnight,” I reply, turning my attention away from the conversation. A video feed of Annie is enlarged on the screen and I breathe a sigh of relief.</p><p>“I told you,” Mags teases, standing up to get herself a cup of tea. I follow her to grab coffee and drop in my sugar cubes.</p><p>“Oh my fucking god!” I hear from a screen somewhere. Mags and I walk back to our corner, trying to find where it came from. I don’t really recognize the voice, so I know it isn’t Annie or Finnick. I'm able to stop the rush of worried thoughts that would flood my head if it were one of them. </p><p>It turns out to be Garret, and it takes all my self-control not to burst out laughing. The boy seems to have lost it a little—stomping around, kicking things, throwing things.</p><p>Sonya left last night and he’s all alone. Walking at a moderate speed he would be able to get back to the Cornucopia before the afternoon—but at the rate he speeds through the forest he’s there much sooner.</p><p>I don’t really pay attention to his welcome, knowing that <em>I </em>would lose it and start laughing. Mags must feel something similar, because she refocuses the screen on Annie and Kai. In the corner, we now have a feed of Vivian and after some thought, we add one of Sonya.</p><p>A friend doesn't exactly describe someone you just met who you confess a secret to—that will probably be the cause of your death—and then not really talk to again, but if there were a word for that type of acquaintance, then that’s who Annie would be to Sonya. And if they’re almost friends, then she deserves someone watching her back.</p><p>Even if you can’t actually tell her if someone is following her or about to stab her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Later in the day, I become glad for the video feed on Sonya—because it seems likes she’s following Annie and Kai’s footsteps. I don’t think she’s hunting them, but I don’t really know what she’s doing.</p><p>It doesn’t seem like her mentors do, either—because on the other side of the lounge, I hear a string of swearing coming from the direction of District Eleven’s corner.</p><p>Mags and I laugh a little about it, but I know there’ll be a lot of swear words if anything happens to Annie. Or even Kai. He’s a kind boy and he reminds me of a puppy.</p><p>Always happy to please you, glad to help you, dedicated to his owner (or in this case, getting him or Annie out alive), etc.</p><p>Even if Sonya is planning to kill Annie or Kai—there’s two of them (a point I keep reminding myself of when it comes to Vivian) and they have a head start. They’ll be safe overnight because it took them the better half of an afternoon to find their hiding spot—and Sonya slept for most of the morning before losing their path a couple times.</p><p>The rest of the day goes pretty similarly to yesterday, and Britta is scheduled for later in the evening—so I have a little extra time to watch the tributes.</p><p>“Do we have to go through your little panic-moment all over again?” Mags says, glancing over at me. She doesn’t make fun of me if I ever have panic attacks because of anything, really (mainly because of the Games, but they’re now mixed in with stress about Annie)—but I know last night was really overreacting.</p><p>“No,” I mumble, feeling foolish.</p><p>“They’ll be okay, Finnick. Besides, you still have time before you have to leave.”</p><p>We don’t say much, just watching Annie and Kai check their traps and pick some wild berries from a bush they found not far from their cave. We flip through to check on other tributes, but other than Vivian and Sonya—they’re safe.</p><p>“I. Give. Up.” I hear from Eleven’s corner. Chaff stands up and storms out of the room.</p><p>“Check on Sonya,” Mags murmurs next to me and on screens across the room, the same image appears.</p><p>Sonya and Vivian in a knife fight, each snarling at each other. Vivian looks like a wild dog and Sonya’s face is set in determination.</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Haymitch says, sounding a little more sober than before. He must have drifted back in for more alcohol and he sits down near us, looking at the screen. Mags would usually reprimand him—like she tries to do to me—but she too is engrossed in the image on the screen.</p><p>It’s almost hypnotizing to watch the two girls fight on the screen. Both are incredible at hand-to-hand combat and using knives, so they make it look like a sort of dance.</p><p>At least, until one of their knives cuts into the other’s flesh and I’m reminded all over again that this is the Arena.</p><p>Nothing should be described as pretty in the Arena. Not the knife fights or the tributes who look like they're dancing on their toes. Not the crimson blood that stains everything. Not the false skies or the sunsets that are created by Gamemakers.</p><p>Snow tries to romanticize it. He tries to play it up for the people of the Capitol and it works. He makes the mass graveyards into tourist attractions. He makes murdering children a game. <em>A form of entertainment.</em> But not for those who live in the Districts.</p><p>We know what it’s like to feel blood pounding in our temples as we work to keep our families alive. We know the racing of your heart when you have to recount how much money you earned, unsure whether or not you can make it through the next month. We know what color the blood is as it pours out of cuts and scrapes.</p><p>We know that nothing is beautiful in the Arena.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>"I won’t let him break me,” </em>I whisper to myself, determined to stay true to my promises. Along with repeating the names of the dead tributes, it’s become a habit of mine each morning. Reminding myself that I need to get out this Arena alive. Telling myself that there’s people I need to go home to.</p><p>If I weren’t in the Arena and if there weren’t people actively trying to kill me, it would be a nice morning. Compared to other days I’ve woken up in the Arena, I feel a strange sense of peacefulness.</p><p>Kai doesn’t know I’m awake yet, but I can hear him moving around—so I know we’re safe for the moment. The cave air is damp and cold, but the inside of my sleeping bag is insulated, keeping me cozy in a cocoon of warmth.</p><p>I wait a few more minutes before talking to Kai, relishing in the idea that if I just stay strong for a couple more days, then I’ll be home soon. Then again, if I go home, 23 other people don’t. Including Kai and even Sonya. And little Mazie and Andrew—I haven’t seen either of their faces in the sky yet.</p><p><em>No. </em>Don’t think about them. Don’t think about any of it.</p><p>Now that my mind has gone off-course into a spiral of thoughts, I decide it might be time to actually get up.</p><p>“Good morning,” I say to Kai, sitting up and stretching in my sleeping bag. I see him slide something into his pocket, but I leave it be—not wanting to pry. I instead focus on getting my body moving—my muscles are sore and tired from our hiking.</p><p>“Is any morning in the Arena good?” Kai jokes and I roll my eyes.</p><p>“No, but we’re safe so the sentiment will work.” I move to get out of my sleeping bag, but as soon as the cold air hits me, I curl back into the layers of it. “Why is it so <em>cold</em>?” Kai looks a little confused and is about to answer when I stop him. I forget that when I set my expression to neutral it makes it hard to figure out what I actually meant. Finnick pointed it out once and made it a personal challenge to figure out when I’m serious and when I’m sarcastic. “It was rhetorical. I know why it’s cold, I’m just complaining. But do you think it’s going to stay like this all day?”</p><p>“The fog is pretty dense, so even if it goes away it’ll take a little bit. And it smells like there’ll be some rain later on so, you know, we’re in for a cheerful day,” Kai says sarcastically. I peer around him and realize that I can barely see past the cave entrance. Everything is obscured by a dense layer of white fog.</p><p>“Guess we’re not going anywhere, then,” I say, gaining the resolve to move out of the comfort of my sleeping bag. We were able to trap a rabbit and two squirrels yesterday, but we haven’t had the confidence to start a fire. Thankfully, it’s not a necessity yet—the cold isn’t that biting, and we still have a good amount left from our Cornucopia supplies. I wonder whether today will be our only chance to cook our meat.</p><p>If we wait too long, it’ll go bad—but we don’t want to die because of it. The fog would cover up the smoke almost perfectly, but a fire would be bright in the darkness. Other tributes would notice if there were something glowing, so it would attract more attention than it’s worth.</p><p>I sit on the ground next to Kai and drag my finger through the fine dirt. Today is going to be a long day, especially if we don’t do anything. I know I should be grateful for a quiet day, safe from other tributes—but the fog is going to keep us inside this cave. There’s only so much you can do, and I don’t know what will happen if I’m stuck in my thoughts for an entire day.</p><p>“What are you doing?” I ask, moving to grab an apple from our food sack. In the dirt, Kai has drawn pictures of something.</p><p>“Map,” Kai replies, continuing to draw with a pointed stick. I look closer and see the Cornucopia, set almost in the dead center of the Arena—or at least what we know of it.</p><p>I see the mountain set off in the distance and the large dam close to the Cornucopia. Near it is our hiding spot and the forest we ran out of.</p><p>“What are those for?” I ask, pointing to letters written next to the Cornucopia.</p><p>“Initials. For the tributes that we know the location of. Mostly it’s just the Careers, but still.” It makes sense after he points it out—right where we are is an A and a K.</p><p>“You’re good at this,” I say, smiling. His face is sad, and I hope a little bit of encouragement will cheer him up. Even though it’s just a map drawn on dirt—it could be a piece of art. The Cornucopia drawing is detailed and almost just like the real one, only scaled down.</p><p>“Thanks,” Kai replies quietly, and his eyes are a little glossy.</p><p>“Your parents don’t approve?” I guess, knowing it’s probably right. If he had never been Reaped, he might have made a living being an artist—if there were a need for it. The Districts view art as useless—why should you decorate your home when you need to eat? He’s young and strong so his parents would have boxed all his potential away and had him out fishing almost every day of the week.</p><p>He has been Reaped, though—and that almost lowers his chances. Yes, Victors are given free rein of their life, or so the Capitol says. It seems like it’s all lies—and if it is then President Snow will turn Kai into another Finnick. This time, he might not even wait until he’s 16 to sell him off.</p><p>Kai nods and pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket, pushing it over for me to see. I pick it up gently, and see a picture of Kai, smiling. He looks older, though, and his eyes are the wrong color.</p><p>“Who is this?” I ask, my voice gentle. I had only seen Kai’s little sisters at the Reaping. He doesn’t have any other siblings. <em>Does he? </em>They would have brought it up at the interviews or mentioned it somewhere else. <em>Would he hide that from me? </em>It doesn’t really affect me in any way, but still. We are being sent into an Arena to kill other children. <em>We are </em>in an Arena full of people who want us dead. Why would he keep that from me? Then again, what does it matter? It’s not like he would be talking about his family to me a while we’re fighting off tributes.</p><p>“He was my brother,” Kai whispers, his lip trembling. He closes his eyes and tilts his head up, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.</p><p>“Is, Kai. He’s still your brother even though he’s not here anymore,” I tell him, a little too forcefully. If you stop having a sibling when they die, then I’m all alone—all my blood relations are gone. It would mean I don’t have a mom or dad. <em>So they have to still be your family even when they’re gone. It has to be true. They can’t just be gone.</em></p><p>Kai doesn’t respond, he just sits there, holding in his tears. I move over and pull him close to me, comforting him like I would Lizzy or Ben. He shakes with silent sobs and I hum the melody of a lullaby about the sea.</p><p>Slowly, slowly, his sobs start to fade, and he falls back against me, exhausted. People always forget how much energy crying takes from you.</p><p>“What’s his name?” I ask, in the same tone I used when asking who the person in the picture was. I don’t want to pressure Kai, but I know what it feels like to hurt. Every day, I live with the ache in my chest that something isn’t right. Something is missing. <em>Someone </em>is missing.</p><p>“His name was—is Theo. He was just a year older than I am now when—when he got Reaped,” Kai’s voice sound almost strangled and I feel stuck. There’s nothing I can do to help him. To make him feel better. Words don’t help when it comes down to it. They’re just words—they don’t bring a person back.</p><p>“How much older is he?”</p><p>“5 years. I was 10—it was my first year having my name in the Reaping. He promised me that I’d be okay—but he never promised that <em>he </em>would be safe.”</p><p>“Kai…,” I start, not knowing what to say. <em>How do you respond to something like that?</em> I’m grateful that Kai keeps talking, so I don’t have to try to comfort him with words he knows are lies.</p><p>“I told Mags, so we figured out how to not mention it. I don’t know what she did to keep Caesar from bringing it up, but she worked some sort of magic and I’ve kept it secret. I—I just didn’t know how to talk about it. I<em> don’t </em>know how to talk about it.”<br/>              “Try,” I say, squeezing his hand encouragingly. Kai waits, and his eyes look lost, his thoughts stuck in a never-ending loop of memories. I almost think that he’s not going to say anything when he starts talking.</p><p>“We were always really close, even though he was older than me. Until my sisters came, I never knew that siblings could be so annoying. Theo was my older brother, my role model, and my hero. I looked up to him in everyway possible. I wanted to be just like him, and I did everything he did. We were separated by years, yet some days it felt like we were twins. The Games were basically the first thing that we didn’t experience together.” Kai laughs a little and looks out into the fog.</p><p>“Well, you got to experience it eventually, even if it wasn’t at the same time.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess. Back then, I would have done anything to go with him, <em>to be with him. </em>Now, I look back and I just wish I could have saved him from ever going in there.”</p><p>“You would have volunteered for him?” I ask, somewhat in awe. I wouldn’t have ever wanted my siblings to be a position where they would want to volunteer for me—but in any world I wouldn’t want them to. <em>I</em> would want to save them. That’s the job of the older sibling, I guess. You always take the harder path, creating an easier one for your younger siblings.</p><p>Kai’s brother, Theo, carved a path for him and he had no choice but to follow it. <em>But will he follow him to death? </em>Will Kai see his brother sooner rather than later? Or will I see my family instead of Finnick and Mags’ faces?</p><p>Kai doesn’t answer my question, and I don’t blame him. He’s probably wondering if he would still have a brother if he’d just been <em>a little less scared, little older, a little braver, a little smarter. </em></p><p>“Theo was the one who taught me how to draw. He always told me that I would become a better person than he ever was. I didn’t understand it—and I still don’t. I guess he just wanted me to become more than what our parents thought we could be. We were so much alike, in almost every way. But I was always more daring, more adventurous. Theo was always so studious, but I was the one who dragged us outside to climb trees or go swimming. It was the one distinction between us. Theo would be the one holding a book, and I’d be the one running around.”</p><p>“You two sound like you were a handful,” I say, trying to lighten Kai’s mood a little. A sad sort of smile appears on his face, one I know all too well. I mirror the same expression when something little reminds me of my mom and dad or Ben and Lizzy. A flower growing up through the rocks, a new book from the library, Finnick teaching me new knots, and Mags braiding back my hair.</p><p>All of it reminds me of them, every day, every minute. But some days it’s easier, and a sad sort of smile crosses my face.</p><p>“I want to go home,” Kai says plainly, his voice even quieter than before. “My parents lost one child because of the Games and now they might lose another. Theo told me to be braver, bolder, better—but how do I make it out of here alive? I promised him that I’d try, but I don’t feel like I’m trying at all. I love my family, but I guess some part of me still wants to follow Theo.”</p><p>“Some paths we have to take by ourselves,” I say, echoing Mags. “But I promise I will help you as much as I can. I will try my best to get you home safe, and back to your family.” Inside my heart, I know that this is true. If it means I die and Kai lives, then I’ll let it happen. As much as I want to go home—to go back into Finnick’s arms, if it came down to it, I couldn’t kill Kai. I wouldn’t be able to. Beside me, Kai laughs a little—sounding almost dumbfounded—and he looks at me with tear-filled eyes.</p><p>“That’s the real difference, isn’t it? Between me and Theo. One of us will go home and one of us won’t. On the one path in our life that really matters, we’re being forced to go opposite ways.”</p><p>“Please don’t give up, Kai. Think of your sisters—your parents. Don’t make them lose another child or another brother. Don’t put them through that.”</p><p>“Do we have a choice in that matter?” Kai asks, his face skeptical. I try my best to be honest with him. I don’t want to lie when either of us can die at any moment in time.</p><p>“Not really, but there’s a difference between killing someone who wants to live versus someone who wants to die.” Mags would tell me about the quick deaths of the tributes who didn’t even try to fight—while Finnick would tell me about the ones he’d seen fighting until the very last breath.</p><p>“Do you have experience?”</p><p>“No, but I have Mags and Finnick. And they’re the bravest and most strong-willed people in my life, and both of them have made it out of this Arena alive. I’m promising you, Kai, our names won’t be forgotten. We won’t let that happen.” What I don’t say is that only <em>one </em>of our names will be written in the history books. As a Victor, they won’t be erased. As a tribute, their death will be one of hundreds.</p><p>Kai looks like he’s about to say something else when a scream cuts through the silent morning air.</p><p>We move quickly to the cave entrance, staring out into the fog. I couldn’t make out what the voice said, but it sounded defensive. Like they didn’t want something to happen. <em>They didn’t want to die. </em>But if there is one tribute dead, then there’s another one close behind.</p><p>I shiver in the cold air, pulling my jacket closer. The temperature doesn’t change, but it feels like it drops a couple degrees while we look out into the fog, scanning for tributes. It sparks an old memory in me, something dusty and forgotten in the back of my mind.</p><p>My dad, pulling out an old box and calling it a <em>projector. </em>He told me an old friend had lent it to him, and that he didn’t want it to go to waste, just sitting on a shelf. I was around 6 or 7, Lizzy wasn’t born yet—but I still felt extra special when Dad let me hold it, even though I didn’t have a sibling to brag to. Dad told me that his great grandfather’s g<em>randfather </em>used to see things called <em>movies </em>on these projectors. I asked if they were like the videos we saw during school, talking about the Games, District 13’s destruction, or the Capitol.</p><p>He told me that the government was very different back then, and that things like movies weren’t restricted or monitored as closely as they are today. Back then, people would watch <em>movies </em>for <em>fun. </em>Dad told me that as technology grew and as the government evolved, movies just went away. The government felt they encouraged bad things and then the Games came along as a form of entertainment.</p><p>He told me that the only movie his friend was able to lend him was something called <em>horror. </em>Dad told me that it would probably be scary, but I puckered my chin and told him I wasn’t scared. He put on the movie and we watched the entire thing.</p><p>In the end, it wasn’t any scarier than the Games. Yes, there was blood and spooky scenes, but the Games aren’t any different. People are actually dying in the Games; it isn’t something called <em>acting. </em>Everything is real in the Games.</p><p>The fog in the movie made me jump because a person in a long cloak snuck up on the main characters, and I wish that my dad could be here to hold my hand and tell me it’s going to be okay.</p><p>It feels like I’m in the movie, but on a worse level of terror. Then again, everything is scarier in real life.</p><p>The fog seems to be alive as it moves through the air, and what was once a reassurance of safety is now a terrifying abyss. Harmless trees turn into menacing tributes, waiting for the right chance to murder you.</p><p>My hand reaches out and catches the tips of Kai’s fingers. He holds on tight and doesn’t let go. After a minute or two, I don’t think either of us can feel our fingers, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re not alone.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. I’m going to see Finnick again. I’m going to make it out of here alive. Or we’re going to get Kai out. One of us is going to make it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let Snow break me. I won’t let him use me. </em>
</p><p>“We’re going to be okay,” I whisper, squeezing Kai’s hand. One of us has to say it, even if it’s a lie. For a moment, it’s not Kai’s hand in my own—it’s Ben’s and it’s his first day of school. His wide eyes looked up at me—scared. Now Kai’s eyes look at me and they’re set in determination. I wonder if my own eyes reflect the same resolve.</p><p>“Yeah,” Kai agrees, his voice breathless even though we’ve been standing still. Neither of us says a word for a while, listening to hear any sort of human sound.</p><p>In the silence, the dull thudding of running footsteps pounds louder than our heartbeats.</p><p>It’s like when we were with the Careers and we got into a fight with another group of tributes, but this time everything is different.</p><p>We have no idea if we’ll make it out alive. We don’t know who this tribute is. We don’t have the power of the Careers on our side. We don’t have anywhere to run.</p><p>Like before, time seems to slow as the dark shadow gets closer and closer.</p><p>My grip on my spear is tight and adrenaline courses through my body, fueling me. The metal of it is cold against my palm and the smooth material slides a little in my sweating hands. Once again, I’m struck by the fear of needing to use this. Having no choice but to murder somebody for no reason other than the Capitol’s entertainment.</p><p>The shadow gets closer, slowly starting to form the shape of <em>something. </em>An animal. A person. <em>A tribute. </em>One of the Careers. <em>A murderer</em>. An ally. Someone willing to work together. Someone bloodthirsty and cold-hearted.</p><p>“Annie, get behind me,” Kai commands, leaving no room for argument. I ignore him, and step so that I’m in line with him. <em>I won’t hide.</em> <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>I’m going to fight. I won’t let Kai die because I’m a coward. I won’t be the cause of his death. <em>One of us is going to make it out of here alive. </em></p><p>Kai takes another step forward and pushes me behind him. I start to protest, but the words are frozen in my mouth when I see the girl step into the meager light of our cave. The fog seems to part as she walks through it, leading her right to us.</p><p>“My name’s Vivian,” the girl says, grinning.</p><p>“What—” Kai starts to say, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.</p><p>I hear the sound of a blade whistling through the air before any of my other senses can comprehend what’s happening.</p><p>I’m frozen in place and <em>I can’t move. </em>I’m stuck and I can’t help Kai. I can’t save him. <em>I can’t save him. </em></p><p>The metal slices his throat in a clean line, blood covering the stub of his neck like a scarf. A red, bloody scarf. <em>Why is there so much blood?</em></p><p>His body collapses with the loss and his head falls to the ground, slowly rolling to a stop at my feet.</p><p>“No—!” I scream, but it’s too late.</p><p>The canon booms.</p><p><em>It’s too late. </em>It’s too late for anything. He never got to be anything better. His life has been cut off too soon—just like his brother’s. Because of me, Kai broke his promise to Theo. <em>Because of me. </em>I should have stood my ground. It should be my head on the floor.</p><p>My thoughts crash in waves all around me and Finnick isn’t here to guide me to safety. Guilt presses into every sentence.</p><p>
  <em>I couldn’t save him. I sent him down the wrong path. He’s gone because of me. </em>
</p><p>Kai’s gone. Just like Theo. Just like Lizzy and Ben. His heart isn’t beating anymore, but mine still is. I’m still alive even though I should be dead now. Everyone else deserved to live. <em>But isn’t it always the saints who die too young? </em></p><p>He’s dead because of me. Kai is dead and it’s all my fault. I should have stood in front of him. I’m older, he has a family. <em>Oh, god. </em>His little sisters had to watch that. They watched as I was a coward and as Kai died for me.</p><p>They saw it all.</p><p>
  <em>At least Ben and Lizzy don’t have to watch.</em>
</p><p>I’ll be able to see them in the afterlife.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Well, well, well. I should have killed you first. You’re going to be a screamer, aren’t you?” the girl—<em>Vivian—</em>asks.</p><p>“No,” I say, forcing my voice to stop trembling. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I can’t cry right now. <em>I won’t let him break me. I won’t let him break me. I won’t let him break me.</em></p><p>“Are you at least going to try to fight me?” Vivian says, looking bored. Her eyes flick over our cave and it almost looks like she’s laughing at us. <em>At me. </em>We’re not an us anymore. We aren’t we. Kai is gone—<em>dead</em>. And I’m still alive.</p><p>“Why would I fight you if you’re just going to kill me? Why not make it quick?” I challenge, glaring at her. She’s the one who killed Kai, even if it is my fault. Her ice-blue eyes drill into my own, but I hold my ground—refusing to look away. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>“Because it’s no <em>fun</em> when it’s easy,” she answers, sounding like a petulant child. “It’s so much better when they try to use their weapons on me. But it does get a little annoying when they put up a pathetic little fight. Your little friend was so easy to kill, he didn’t even get to know why I told him my name.”</p><p>I look at her and wonder what made her like this. Nobody is born like this, right? Everyone has some good in them, but this girl enjoys murdering tributes. Maybe she even killed people <em>before </em>the Games. But something must have made her like this—her life, her family, her childhood, her friends, <em>something. </em></p><p>“Well? Don’t you want to know why I told him my name?” <em>What? </em>Is she just going to talk me to death? Is she trying to get me off-guard?</p><p>I nod my head, not trusting my voice capable of lying. Vivian smiles and I’m almost astonished that her teeth aren’t pointed—like a Victor awhile back who tore out another tribute’s throat. I’m surprised Vivian hasn’t tried that yet.</p><p>“I wanted him to know who killed him! It’s as simple as that. I want him to die knowing who took his life so easily. So, when he goes into the afterlife, he’ll always remember me—but never be able to do anything about it!” Vivian says, almost gleeful. I look at her incredulously. <em>Who does this? </em>If my life weren’t at risk, I wonder if Finnick would be laughing. She’s so serious, but there’s a sense of morbid humor to it. I’m tempted to find a camera and smile, just for Finnick—but I doubt anyone would share in my amusement.</p><p>The laughter bubbling up in me dies as soon as I feel the cold press of a knife against my throat. Vivian is behind me and I can’t see her face, but I’m sure she’s grinning. Vivian leans down and whispers into my ear, sending chills down my spine.</p><p>“There’s nobody to save you. Your only ally is dead. And when you die, you’ll die all alone.”</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me.</em>
</p><p>But all of her words are true. Finnick can’t save me because he’s on the other side of a wall. Mags can’t help me anymore. Kai is dead. If Vivian leaves me, then I really will die all alone. Nobody will be here to comfort me except for myself.</p><p>Myself.</p><p>There’s no one here to save me, but I’m still here. I’ll save myself.</p><p>I won’t let him break me.</p><p>I won’t die without a fight. Vivian is still distracted by watching me squirm in fear, so she doesn’t notice my hand moving to my waist. I have a small hunting knife hidden there. I pull it out, scanning the room for another weapon.</p><p><em>There. </em>Kai’s knife on the floor. It’s still small, but it’ll have to work. I’ll grab it after I use the one in my hands.</p><p>Look for a weakness, Finnick would tell me. Vivian’s self-confidence seems like a fairly good one, but I run through all of her movements. She favors her right arm much more then her left. <em>Good. </em></p><p>I move my arm back at an awkward angle and ignore how easily the knife slides into her flesh.</p><p>“Hey—!” Vivian exclaims, looking in shock down at her arm. The knife is embedded deep into her upper forearm and blood is already seeping out of the wound.</p><p>I move to quickly pick up Kai’s knife and hold it out in front of me. “Don’t move, Vivian. Don’t get any closer,” I say, keeping my voice stern. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>Vivian jerks forward, and I flinch, closing my eyes for a second. Waiting for the death blow. It doesn’t come, but that second of darkness is enough for Vivian to twist my arm behind my back and put another knife to my throat.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t cry. I won’t beg for mercy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p><p>Vivian drags the point of the knife down my back, lightly tracing my spine, before wrapping her arm around me and setting it right on my heart.</p><p>I close my eyes. At least it’ll be quick, not something long and drawn out.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me.</em>
</p><p>The canon booms for the second time today.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em>I’m not dead. </em>I’m alive.</p><p>It’s the first thing I realize when I open my eyes. The canon went off, but I’m not dead.</p><p>There isn’t a knife poised above my heart anymore. I turn around and see Vivian on the ground, face down—a knife embedded in the back of her head.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me.</em>
</p><p>I’m not going to scream—she was going to kill me. It was her or me. I wasn’t even the one who killed her.</p><p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p><p>I didn’t kill Vivian. So who did?</p><p>“Had to...repay the favor...,” Sonya says before collapsing on the ground, blood staining the front of her shirt.</p><p><em>What?  </em>I didn’t save her life. I just gave her an ear to talk to. <em>But you did. </em>I gave her an out. She knew she would die, and by telling me that she had nothing to go back to—sponsors and Capitol citizens wouldn’t want her to go home. Now she’s able to pay me back. Even if she hadn’t killed Vivian, I still would have been the cause of her death.</p><p>“Sonya?” I ask, hoping that she isn’t dead. There’s been no canon boom, so she has to be alive. I rush over to her, holding back nausea when I step over Vivian’s body. <em>I won’t let him break me. </em></p><p>“I’m still alive,” she says weakly, closing her eyes.</p><p>“No! Don’t close your eyes, stay awake, Sonya. Please,” I beg, putting pressure on the gaping hole. “Why did you take the knife out? It would have kept you from losing so much blood!” I say, remembering some of the lessons Finnick taught me.</p><p>At least some of it stuck. I don’t know how, but somehow, I remember enough to grab a water bottle and try to clean it before tightly wrapping a shirt around her stomach.</p><p>There’s too much blood. Only lethal wounds bleed this much.</p><p>“I...had...to,” she says, breathing heavily. I think back to the knife in Vivian’s head. <em>No. </em>Did Sonya risk her own life to save me? Did she use the knife keeping her alive to kill Vivian?</p><p>“Thank you,” I whisper, clutching her hand with my left hand while my right-hand presses down on her abdomen. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Keep pressure? <em>Then why is there so much blood?</em></p><p>I move to grab another clean shirt or something, <em>anything, </em>to stop the blood flow—but Sonya catches my hand, pulling me back.</p><p>“Don’t leave, please,” she says, looking up at me. In her eyes, I see a determination similar to Kai’s, right before he died. She’s going to die on her own terms. And Sonya’s choosing to die right now.</p><p>“I’m here,” I say, choking a little on the tears running down my face. Everything is blurry, but I can still see all the blood. I try to wipe some of them away, to clear my vision—but my hands are still covered in Sonya’s blood and now everything is red.</p><p>“Annie?” Sonya asks, her voice sounding clearer than before.</p><p>“What? Is there anything I can do?” I wish desperately that I could make her more comfortable, give her something to make it numb—to make it stop hurting. But all I can do is put pressure on it and hold her hand.</p><p>“Go...,”Sonya starts, her voice quiet. I can’t make out what she’s saying. <em>I can’t hear her.</em></p><p>“What is it? I can’t hear you,” I say, my voice soft as if I’m talking to a child. I move so that I’m holding her head up, and I stroke her hair like I used to with Lizzy before bed. I don’t know Sonya’s actual age, but in the moment, I feel like I could be her older sister. I feel like I’m losing Lizzy all over again.</p><p>“go...home,” she says, and I listen for her breath. Nothing comes. <em>She isn’t breathing. </em>I don’t know how to save her. I can’t save her. I can’t.</p><p>Tears are pouring down my face and I’m taking gulping breathes, trying not to scream.</p><p>A canon booms, an echo of the one that marked Kai’s death not even an hour ago. Another tribute dead. <em>Another friend dead. </em></p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper to them. To the bodies laying around me. <em>I’m sorry that you’re dead and I’m alive. I’m sorry I couldn’t save any of you. I’m sorry.</em></p><p>I lay on the hard ground for a while, gripping my necklace. Eventually, I’m able to stand up on shaking legs, but at least I don’t fall over.</p><p>I look around me and see their bodies—<em>their corpses. </em></p><p>A shriek builds it way up my throat and I scream, staring at the dead bodies around me.</p><p>Something inside of me breaks. Tears stream down my face and I scramble madly through the bushes, trying not to make too much noise but failing. My vision fades in and out—Kai’s face flashing before me, Sonya’s face—even Vivian’s face.</p><p>Kai’s head, separated from the rest of his body. Red blood covering his neck and staining his shirt. The smiles that had once filled his face, gone.</p><p>Vivian’s cold eyes, staring up at the ceiling. The evil grin from her face, gone. The life that once filled her now replaced with a stark numbness.</p><p>Sonya’s words. <em>Go home. </em>See Finnick and Mags. Go home. Go to my ocean, my family.</p><p>In my fading vision, I see the ocean—my ocean. Then it all turns red.</p><p>Red. Everything is so very red. Not a soft red—harsh. Harsh because it’s blood. It’s blood and it’s all over my hands and <em>I can’t get it off. </em>It’s sticky and metallic, filling my nose with the smell of <em>red. </em></p><p>I stumble blindly through the Arena, not even worrying about other tributes. It takes everything in me to even stand up on my two feet. It takes everything in me to not scream.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p><p>Each step I take moves me further away from their bodies, but every time I move—I see their faces.</p><p>I lose track of time, and after a while—I can’t move any more. My legs collapse beneath me, and I find a small nook between two boulders to sleep under. I have to drag myself over to it, but it’ll be better than being out in the open. It protects me enough, and my mind can’t think hard enough to do anything else.</p><p>My mind can only see their faces and the <em>blood. </em>I spit onto my hands and try to wipe it off on my shirt, but it won’t come off. Its crusted under my fingernails and it covers my palms from where I tried to stop Sonya’s stab wound from bleeding.</p><p>I remember her words.</p><p>
  <em>Go home.</em>
</p><p>All of my emotions pour down my face and break through my chest in a scream.</p><p>It’s not delicate, it’s not pretty—but it’s real. It’s harsh and it hurts and I can’t stop—<em>but at least something makes sense. </em>At least I’m able to make some of it go away.</p><p>All of the pain and hurt and sadness is stuck inside of me and screaming is the only way to make it go away. I scream and scream and scream, until my voice is hoarse and it hurts to even swallow.</p><p>But somehow, my chest is a little lighter.</p><p>I look up to the sky and close my eyes—remembering Finnick’s voice. My necklace leaves an imprint on my palm, but I need to feel pain. I need to feel something to tell me that this is happening.</p><p>That all of this is real.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe it’s just a nightmare.</em>
</p><p>I hear the first few notes of the anthem and know that it isn’t a dream.</p><p>No—this horrible nightmare is my life, my reality.</p><p>I lay on the hard rocks, imaging the wind through the trees is the sound of Finnick’s breathing. Imagining that I’m home safe, and it’s the waves crashing on the shore.</p><p>
  <em>But it’s not.</em>
</p><p>And I can’t convince my mind that it is.</p><p>So I lay awake, uncomfortable on the rocks, trying to make my body cooperate. Trying to attain the numbness that sleep would grant me.</p><p>In the end, I wonder if it would be better if I kept my eyes open.</p><p>It would keep the nightmares away.</p><p>But aren’t nightmares better than real life?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Mags</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I feel like I’ve said sorry a lot, but I really would like to apologize for taking so long to post this chapter! I was really struggling to write this story in general, and Finnick’s pov was just not working either—so here’s a short chapter with Mags. I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Finnick—she’s fine. We’re going to get her out of there. She’s going to come home,” I say, repeating the same words I’ve been telling Finnick over and over the past couple hours. I don’t think any of them have reached him, but I’m still trying to reach him.</p><p>Ever since Annie collapsed and fell asleep late last night, Finnick has been even worse than before. I know it was hard for him, having to come back from a client to find <em>this</em>.</p><p>To find Annie almost dead and three other tributes gone. I tried to tell him about it, not wanting to make him rewind and watch the clips, but I couldn’t stop him. I had to see again it as Annie fell apart when Kai died and as she was threatened by Vivian and when she broke down into tears when Sonya died.</p><p>The worst part was hearing her scream again. It hurt me so much the first time and hearing it a second time was even more awful. I knew it was coming and still, I wasn’t ready.</p><p>It was heart wrenching and painful and I can only imagine how Finnick felt after it. He broke down into tears for a while—watching something like that torments you. It rips your heart out and tells you to keep living. Now he looks almost numb as he leans against the couch.</p><p>But I can’t have him collapsing. I won’t force food down his throat, but sometime today he is going to eat something. He only ate a bite or two of his lunch yesterday and I know he skipped dinner—and now he’s refusing to eat anything for breakfast. It’s even worse than the days when he comes home from his Capitol visits.</p><p>I look over at him, sitting next to me, and sigh—knowing I’m not getting anywhere with him. I forget how stubborn he can be, how much he likes to ignore everything I say in favor of his own choices. Some days I forget how much he’s grown up. How different he is from that little boy I had to mentor, that little boy I had to watch kill. <em>We all grow up in those Arenas. </em></p><p>His eyes are glued to the screen, where Annie is curled up. Underneath his eyes are dark bags, and I’m positive that I share a matching pair. I’ve stayed awake with Finnick, scared of what he might do if he gets too desperate, and I don’t even know what time of day it is. I think it’s sometime in the morning, maybe 7 or 8? I’d look at a clock, to check, but if I do it will just remind me how much longer I have to endure watching Finnick fall apart while Annie’s stuck in the Arena. While <em>she’s </em>falling apart.</p><p>“How’re they doing?” Seeder asks, nodding towards Finnick and the screen. She presses a mug of tea into my hands and I’m thankful she knows me well enough that it’s caffeinated.</p><p>“As best as they can,” I reply, shrugging. I don’t blame either of them for reacting the way that they are—I clearly remember the shock I went into after I watched a fellow tribute die, one whom I had been in an alliance with.</p><p>“Let me know if I can help,” Seeder says, squeezing Finnick’s shoulder and walking away. Both her tributes are gone, and she’s one of the only other Victors who I trust—so she’s helped me conceal Finnick and Annie’s secret.</p><p>“Mags? Could I have some—?” Finnick asks, nodding towards the mug in my hands. I smile and get him a taller mug, filled with coffee instead of tea. Usually I would make him do it himself, but these past few days have been filled with exceptions. I put in his sugar cubes and hand it to him, feeling impatient now that there’s nothing for my hands to do.</p><p>I don’t want Finnick to see my worry, so I pull out my knitting and try to keep my face calm and my breathing steady. I focus on making myself take deep breaths, in and out. I focus on the rows of my knitting, how the scarf is slowly taking shape.</p><p>I chose the colors for Annie—all different shades of red and orange and yellow. It’ll be like the leaves in the fall, even though now so few of our trees back in Four change color.</p><p>I remember when I was a little girl, and I would help clean up the yard, picking up all the different colored leaves with my father. He was the one always reminding me to cherish the good moments, to find the happiness in the gloom. He always told me to find a future when all you’re living is your past. He died in an <em>‘accident’</em>—just like every other person found guilty of being involved in the rebellion. It had been over 10 years, so his death was deemed <em>‘a shame’ </em>and a <em>‘risk of the job’ </em>because he wasn’t needed to be turned into an example. I found the good in it, by reminding myself that he didn’t know I went to the Games, that I didn’t have to watch him be publicly executed.</p><p>I’ve mastered the art of being able to knit subconsciously while watching the tributes onscreen, but today I just can’t focus. It takes all of my concentration to use the needles to loop the yarn for each row, and I keep having to pull it out, starting over again when I drop a stitch, or it goes crooked.</p><p>It takes almost the entire morning before I realize I’m being watched. Out of the corner of my vision, I see Finnick’s eyes flick between the screen and my hands, analyzing both.</p><p>I push away the stray hairs that have fallen into my face and raise one eyebrow at him, questioning his looks. “Is there something I can do for you?” I ask, my voice tired.</p><p>Finnick’s voice is just as groggy, and his reply tells me that he seems to have lost his filter to exhaustion. “Could you teach me how to knit?” I look down at his own hands, beaten and bloodied from the coarse rope he’s been knotting, over and over again.</p><p>“It takes a little more patience,” I say, pointedly looking at the rope Finnick is gripping in his hands.</p><p>“Knots take patience,” he says defensively.</p><p>I roll my eyes and laugh at him. “That’s only because you’re good at it.”</p><p>“Well, well— it took patience at the beginning. It didn’t come to me naturally,” Finnick splutters.</p><p>“Oh, really?”</p><p>“Yeah—I had to practice a lot.”</p><p>“Come over here then and demonstrate your vast experience of patience,” I say, patting the couch next to me and trying my best not to roll my eyes at him again. Finnick moves up from the floor, where he had been leaning against the couch and watching Annie.</p><p>Slowly, I start to show him how to cast on, then stitch, and I alternate between teaching and watching the screen. Annie’s feed takes up most of it, but I still try to keep an eye on the other tributes—even though it doesn’t matter that much anymore. Those who aren’t the Careers are hiding, and the Careers are far enough away from Annie that she’s safe, for now.</p><p>
  <em>For now.</em>
</p><p>The two words take me back to my own games, my own horror story of fear and blood. Having food, <em>for now. </em>Fresh water, <em>for now. </em>Safety, <em>for now.</em></p><p>Nothing in the Arena ever lasts, not your safety, not your morals, <em>not your sanity. </em>All of it can be taken away from you with the press of a button. Gamemakers can change <em>for now </em>to <em>never</em>. They can dry up the fresh water, take away the animals—take away all your resources to drive the tributes to the same place. To create another bloodbath, with less tributes who are more desperate.</p><p>After watching so many games, you begin to see the patterns—the similarities between the Gamemakers’ choices. This year has been different, less variables.</p><p>I wonder what will become of the Head Gamemaker—whoever it is won’t be there next year. There hasn’t been enough blood, enough gore, enough fights this year.</p><p>I fear what will happen when the audience becomes bored. What will happen to Annie when the Arena is used against her.</p><p>Closing my eyes, I try to imagine her face—smiling, innocent, hopeful. In my mind, I try to talk to her—reach her, somehow.</p><p>
  <em>My dear, stay strong. Don’t give in to them.</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Mags? How does this look?” Finnick asks me, holding up a slightly crooked line of looped yarn.</p><p>“Could be a little better,” I tease, pretending to study my own knitting so he doesn’t see my face. If Finnick fades away, back into his mind, I have to be there for Annie. I have to be strong for Finnick—<em>I have to be strong for both of them. </em></p><p>For the rest of the morning, Finnick works on his knitting—attempting to use it to distract himself. I can’t tell if it’s making him more or less frustrated, but by the time lunch comes, I can tell he needs to eat.</p><p>“Finnick,” I say softly. “What do you want for lunch?” Finnick looks up at me, startled for a minute, before his eyes fill with tears.</p><p>“Nothing sounds good, Mags. Nothing that they have here, anyway.” In his eyes, I know what he wants to eat—and not even because they’re delicious.</p><p>“Come here,” I say, holding out my arms. Like a child, Finnick tucks himself into me, and I keep my arms tight around him, so that he knows he’s safe. <em>Even if Annie isn’t. </em></p><p>“It’s just—what if I never taste her muffins again? What if I never see her smile? What if she never teases me again? What if we don’t watch another sunset together? <em>What if she doesn’t come home?</em> What if—”</p><p>“You need to stop,” I say as gently as I can, cutting him off. “That’s a hole you’ll never come out of.” A couple tears slipped out of his eyes and I wipe them away, holding his chin. “I know I’ve said this a thousand times before but <em>you need to believe me. </em>Annie is coming home. She’s going to be okay.”</p><p>There’s a silence, and it seems as if the whole room has gone quiet. The voices of the tributes on the screens is somehow gone, the chattering of Victors; disappeared. The clinking of glasses and silverware, gone—all of it replaced with a strange sense of stillness. Finnick looks up at me and it seems as if he almost believes me. And that’s good enough, for now.</p><p>“Mags? Could I talk to you?” Haymitch asks, heavily leaning on the arm of a couch. It brings me back to the noise, to the room filled with tight smiles and fake laughter.</p><p>“Fine,” I say, glancing back at Finnick—already concentrating on his knitting again. “Eat something, please.” Finnick doesn’t answer, instead waves his hand in the air. It’s supposed to mean yes, but I have a feeling he’ll be in the exact same spot when I come back.</p><p>“What do you need?” I ask Haymitch as soon as we’re out of the lounge and out of earshot of anybody. I know it’s probably got something to do with 13, but I need most of my attention and energy keeping Annie alive.</p><p>He doesn’t answer me right away, annoying me. I’m feeling as impatient as Finnick, and I don’t want to waste my time out here if I can’t help Finnick or Annie. District 13 has come first in my life before, and it can come first again, but not today.</p><p>“You’re still convinced that little girl will make it?” Haymitch asks, not looking at me. His attention is on the large window, and I move to stand next to him, keeping my eyes straight ahead.</p><p>“I don’t have any other choice,” I say, and to Haymitch it must sound like I have no other choice but to help Finnick and Annie. I don’t correct myself—I don’t owe an explanation to Haymitch, even though he has shown his truer colors now that I know him through 13.</p><p>I don’t tell him that I have no other choice because I can’t lose faith in Annie. Because the minute I give up, she won’t make it.</p><p>Again, another silence, this one lasting longer than before.</p><p>“Coin has a job for you,” Haymitch says slowly, studying me.</p><p>My brain flashes through my options, and for the first time I refuse. Shaking my head, I tell Haymitch, “No. Not this time.”</p><p>“Mags, you can’t—”</p><p>“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do.” My voice is low, but I don’t try to sugarcoat any of my words. “All of me will be used to help Annie, because s<em>he is coming out of that Arena alive.” </em>I’ve repeated those words hundreds of times, over and over in my mind—but something in my voice finally makes me truly believe it. I’d said it to Finnick. I’d told it to myself.</p><p><em>But now it’s different. </em>Like I told Haymitch, not even 5 minutes ago—I have no other choice. I have to keep Annie alive. I have to get her out of there alive.</p><p>I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. Even if I couldn’t control it, I would still try to blame myself.</p><p>I guess everything comes full circle eventually.</p><p>I’ve consciously worked everyday to give myself a future, to forgive myself for the past.</p><p>But if we lose Annie, I won’t be able to push it to the back of my mind. I’ve been able to forgive myself for my mistakes, for the lives I was forced to take; but not this. Not Annie.</p><p>
  <em>I have to get her out of there alive. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Haymitch walks away, but I continue staring out the window. I don’t see any of it—or, at least, my brain doesn’t process what my eyes see. My eyes are just wandering over the Capitol buildings, the sleek silver of it all, the colorful clothes of the people—but not focusing on any one thing. I’m too stuck in my own thoughts, too stuck in the world my mind tries to recreate.</p><p>“It should be raining.”</p><p>“What?” I ask, turning to face the boy beside me, startled from my daze.  </p><p>“It shouldn’t be sunny and bright out. It should be dark and raining and it shouldn’t be like this,” Finnick says, scrunching up his nose in a way that I’ve found means he’s holding back tears. I look out at the Capitol and my eyes finally register the bright sunlight reflecting off the buildings, the endlessly blue sky without a single cloud, and the sun, high in the sky, beating down on the people of the Capitol.</p><p>“Why should it be raining?” I ask cautiously, able to guess at his answer, but still wanting to hear it from him. <em>He </em>needs to hear it from himself.</p><p>Finnick lets out a puff of air through his lips, before responding. “Because it shouldn’t be this—this <em>happy </em>outside. People are dying and Annie isn’t safe and she’s not here and it’s too fucking bright outside! It should be storming and downpouring rain and there should be thunder and the world shouldn’t be pretending that everything is okay <em>when nothing is.”</em></p><p>“Finnick—” I start, reaching out to him, but he turns away from me.</p><p>“Don’t say anything, it won’t make it better—<em>it won’t change anything.”</em> Finnick looks back at me, over his shoulder, and his eyes are full of pain. I wish I could take it away; I wish I could make everything better.</p><p>“She’s going to come to us, alive and safe,” I say, my voice steady even though my hands are quivering.</p><p>“How do you know that?” Finnick asks, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s shaking, and his entire face looks filled with the pain I saw in his eyes just a moment earlier. It’s like he’s 14 all over again, and I’m sending him into the Arena. I try my best not to lie to him.</p><p>“Because it’s Annie. Because she won’t let them take you from her.” I hold Finnick’s face in both of my hands, wiping away the tears that start falling down his face. “You have to believe me, Finnick. You have to.” Instead of answering me, Finnick leans against me and I pull him into a tight hug, rubbing reassuring circles on his back.</p><p>“We should go back in,” Finnick mumbles against my shoulder after a minute or two. I nod and squeeze his hand before walking back into the Victor’s lounge.</p><p>Inside, we find <em>Haymitch </em>sitting on the couch in District Four’s corner. “What are you doing here?” I ask immediately, hoping he isn’t going to try and convince me to take the assignment for Coin.</p><p>“You and Finnick were having a little moment there and I thought you’d like it if someone watched over the little girl for you.” Next to me, Finnick bristles when he hears Haymitch call Annie the <em>‘little girl’. </em></p><p>“Did anything happen?” I ask, hoping that he’ll leave us. Haymitch isn’t a bad person, he’s just a little much sometimes. And he could do with some sobering up.</p><p>“Nope,” he says, reclining back on the couch.</p><p>“Then why are you still here?”</p><p>Haymitch holds up his empty glass, with a slight look of guilt on his face. “You got any more?”</p><p>“Out,” I order, but it’s not harsh.</p><p>Haymitch raises his glass to me before slinking off the couch, muttering to himself, “Fine, don’t thank me or anything.” He moves over to Chaff, where I’m sure he’ll be able to get a refill of whatever had been in that glass.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>We sit in silence, watching Annie as she cries, curled up underneath the boulders. I get up to eat something—I don’t know what meal it would be—and Seeder slips me a note.</p><p>“You’ve still got some sponsors. Get Annie food, that’s the most you can do for her right now.” She squeezes my hand, giving me a small smile. I look down at the paper and see the small list of names, enough for about a week—if rationed correctly—but no more than that. Annie will have to start hunting and searching for plants if this is going to be dragged on for another week.</p><p>“Thank you,” I say quietly before walking back to Finnick.</p><p>“The Cornucopia blew up.”</p><p>“What?!” I jerk my head to the side, looking at Finnick on the couch beside me.</p><p>“I guess I should say it got blown up. It didn’t just combust on its own, but that would have been pretty funny.” Finnick meets my eyes, and they look about as dazed as I feel. Gently, I cup my hand around his chin.</p><p>“Is Annie safe?” I ask, watching as he nods and closing my eyes before responding. “Then that’s all that matters. I squeeze his hand before returning to my knitting. Something inside me tells me that I should care about this, that I should get the details from Finnick—but I don’t ask him about it.</p><p>“She needs to eat something, though,” Finnick murmurs beside me, wringing his hands. His knitting is set away, forgotten.</p><p>“So do you, Finnick,” I reply, a plan starting to form in my head.</p><p>Finnick waves me off, not looking at me. “She needs it more.”</p><p>“If you don’t eat, then Annie won’t get food,” I challenge, raising my eyebrows, and watching as Finnick’s eyes widen in surprise.</p><p>“You—you can’t do that!” he protests loudly, before glancing around to make sure nobody heard.</p><p>“I think I can,” I say, trying not to smirk.</p><p>Finnick huffs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fine, I’ll eat, but you have to send her something.”</p><p>“I will, but you have to eat all of it.”</p><p>“I said fine.”</p><p>Laughing a little to myself, I grab him a sandwich and watch him to make sure he eats every single bite of food. On screen, we watch Annie eat her own food, tears still running down her face. I don’t comment on how many sponsors we have left for her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Mags? Are you okay?” Seeder asks me, her face concerned. She had come over to sit with us, and her presence finally made Finnick calm enough to fall asleep. Sometimes, during the Games when I’m not called to mentor, Seeder is able to keep an eye out for Finnick—and her words meant more to him, since Seeder had not repeatedly been telling him to sleep for the past few days.</p><p>I don’t answer Seeder, instead, my eyes stay glued to the screen. <em>No, I’m not okay. </em>But nobody can know that. I have to help Finnick, I have to help Annie. <em>I have not been okay for 59 years.</em></p><p>A young girl, who doesn’t even look like she could be twelve years old, is screaming. I don’t know which hurts more—that I remember being the little girl, or that I remember watching the little girl die, helpless.</p><p>I’ve watched kids die for most of my life—<em>why is this hitting me now? </em>I’ve come to terms with my past, but why is this little girl taking me back there? Why does this little girl remind me so much of myself, even though I was older than her when I was put in that Arena?</p><p>The screen zooms in to show a shaking boy, hiding in the bushes. <em>No. </em>Tears are streaming down his face, his hand held tight over his own mouth. <em>No. </em>His hands are holding a ripped piece of her shirt, and his face is streaked with dirt. <em>No. </em></p><p>They replay footage of the moments before the little girl got caught. It shows the two running, running fast—but not fast enough. The girl falls down, and the boy pulls her up, holding onto her shirt to make her go faster. <em>No. </em>The little boy makes it to the bushes. The little girl isn’t fast enough.</p><p>
  <em>She wasn’t fast enough.</em>
</p><p>I’ll never be fast enough. I’ll never be able to keep Finnick and Annie totally and completely safe. They’re always going to be open to harm, no matter what I do. I try so hard, but it never works. It will never be enough.</p><p>What is any of this even for? I tell Finnick not to give up, but will Annie even make it out alive? She’s breaking down and none of us can do anything for her but send her food and water and prayers. Will it ever be enough? What will our lives mean, on the pinprick of our history? Will any of us be remembered?</p><p>That little old woman, who’s been there for so long. That handsome flirt, always in the Capitol with women hanging off his arms. That broken little girl, who always cried too much.</p><p>What say do we have in how they'll write us? What say do any of us have in the future? </p><p>
  <em>The future.</em>
</p><p>I don’t know if I have a say, but if I can protect these kids—if I can keep Finnick and Annie alive, then maybe they’ll change the way things are. I’m growing older and older, but they’re just getting angrier and angrier.</p><p>Maybe I won’t live to see change, but I can help to raise it—nurturing it in its early beginnings. I’ll set the stage for them to take the spotlight, to make history.</p><p>Maybe I won’t be in the history books, but I’ll be remembered by those who are.</p><p>The canon booms, the little girl’s world goes black. Mine doesn’t.</p><p>I keep living. I keep moving. I keep protecting our future. It’s all I can do, anyways. I won’t live forever, but maybe I’ll live to see the start of something that will be forever.</p><p>After all, maybe Coin and Haymitch and District 13 will change the way things are. I'm helping them, and Finnick is too. They're our future, they'll make a difference. They'll be remembered.</p><p>I look at the face of the little girl, frozen in fear. <em>I’m sorry you’re gone too soon from this world. I'm sorry I don't know your name.</em></p><p>I look at the face of the little boy, frozen in shock. <em>I’m sorry you had to live through this. I’m sorry the world wasn’t made better sooner.</em></p><p>I look at the face of the murderer—the little girl who just killed someone. I see my own face, hardened in resolve, staring back at me. <em>I forgive you. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter isn’t my best writing but I really wanted to post something, so here we are. Now that I’ve kind of gotten past being stuck, I will try my very best to post Annie’s chapter soon! Thanks for the kudos and comments always make my day! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Annie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up disoriented, not knowing what day or time it is. The light of the sky is a strange color, though I don’t know if it’s because of the Gamemakers, the state of my vision, or the time of day.</p><p>I have brief memories of waking up to see the sun, then later seeing the moon. Right now there is nothing but blue in the sky.</p><p>Rubbing my eyes, I try to clear away the haze surrounding the day. I focus on sleeping, but there really isn’t anything to focus on. I haven’t truly been able to fall asleep at all—I’ve been drifting in and out of dream-like hazes. Hardly even dream-like. More akin to nightmares.</p><p>I remember glimpses of Finnick’s face and Mags, too, but then they would morph into Kai’s or Sonya’s and I’d wake up, dazed—before falling again into the pit of never-ending nightmares.</p><p>I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Trying to get the faces of dead bodies out of my mind. I attempt to refocus on the next step, the next thing I must do to bring me closer to going home.</p><p>Sitting up, I look around at what I have to keep myself alive for the next week. There’s a metal canister sitting next to me, but the food inside barely looks touched. I must have opened it when Mags and Finnick sent it down, or a little after, but I can’t remember if any of it actually made it to my mouth.</p><p>Faint memories of food arise, but I have no idea how I was able to eat anything. The thought of a single bite of food makes me want to vomit. All I can see is the blood still staining the skin of my hands and the look on Sonya’s face. The look—</p><p>“Stop it,” I try to say to myself, but it comes out jumbled. Bile starts creeping up the back of my throat and I try to swallow, gagging at the taste it leaves. It makes me cough, and my hand starts fumbling for water, but when I hold the bottle up to my mouth, only a small droplet falls onto my tongue. I clench my teeth and brace myself as my body tries to vomit when there’s nothing to throw up.</p><p>My body wracks itself with half-sobs and I end up curled up on the ground, dry heaving nothing but spit. After what seems like too long, my body gives up, leaving me exhausted. I roll onto my back, too tired to sit up.</p><p>I know that Finnick would tell me to try and eat something, to try and gain enough strength to find water, but his voice in my head isn’t loud enough. My head slumps onto the ground, too heavy, and my eyes drift closed.</p><p>I see Finnick’s face, his smile, his green ocean eyes. My hand reaches up to touch his face, but when it does, red blood spreads from my hand onto Finnick. There’s blood everywhere and Finnick’s face turns into Sonya’s.</p><p>My head jerks up and for a moment It seems like it’s the first time I’ve had this dream, the first time I’ve woken up in these rocks. My eyes look around and I see the opened canister. At the idea of food, my stomach protests, and I remember throwing up—but not really, since I hadn’t eaten or drank anything.</p><p>Grabbing onto that thought, I try to remember more. This feeling, of being dazed, of being stuck in memories, is all too familiar for it to be new, so I must have woken up a couple times before this. Finnick and Mags have sent down a canister, and I opened it, so I was awake then.</p><p>I try to grasp onto that thought, to follow it back into my memories, but my mind can’t hold onto it. It drifts back to Finnick, and his face covered in blood.</p><p>Sonya’s face, covered in blood.</p><p>My hands shake, my fingers digging into my head, trying to think of something else, <em>anything</em>, to keep Sonya’s face out of my mind.</p><p>But she won’t leave. And neither will Kai or Vivian. Or all the other tributes who have died in this Arena.</p><p>
  <em>What were their names again?</em>
</p><p>Somehow, I find them, pushed away in the back corner of my brain. I had them memorized, for a couple days, but I thought they would be gone by now. That they would have flown out of my head as soon as I watched Kai crumple to the ground.</p><p>But they’re here. And that’s something going right for once, since lately everything has been going wrong.</p><p>“Terry, Addison, Dylan, Max,” I frantically murmur to myself. “Caroline—<em>no, </em>Catherine. Ruby, Andr—<em>Aaron. </em>Ally, James, Dean, and—” My mind goes blank.</p><p>And this time Kai isn’t here to help me. He isn’t here to give me the name.</p><p><em>He's dead</em>, <em>Annie. He’s dead and he can’t help you anymore,”</em> I whisper to myself, hitting the palm of my hand against my forehead, ignoring how my hands are shaking. Wishing that the thought would just stay in one place, instead of floating around, destroying my sense of control over anything.</p><p><em>“What—”</em> he never got to finish his question. He didn’t get to say goodbye, like Sonya. Kai never got to see his sisters again.</p><p>He never got to do so many things again.</p><p>I close my eyes and their faces flash before me. The terror in their eyes when Kai’s name got called out into the heavy silence of Reaping Day. The tears staining their cheeks as we walked onto that train, not knowing whether we would ever see our home again.</p><p>Two little girls, who have the same face as Kai and the same smile and the same eyes. Two little girls, who lost their big brother because of me. Two little girls, who had to watch their big brother die for the entertainment of the Capitol.</p><p>My mind doesn’t focus on that, though, it gets distracted at the thought of Kai’s little sisters—flooding my head with images of my own little siblings, my own family who I lost.</p><p>
  <em>Ben taking his first steps, wobbling before getting lifted high into the air by my grinning mom. Lizzy braiding my hair, her tongue stuck out in concentration, her fingers awkwardly weaving my dark hair into tangled knots. Ben learning to swim, to not be afraid of the ocean. Lizzy overcoming her fear so that Ben wouldn’t learn how to swim before her. Lizzy, with tears streaming down her face, walking straight into the ocean. Ben, crying out, and Mom, running towards her. Lizzy shouting out that it’s alright, that she’s fine. Me, still running towards her—because I can’t lose her to the ocean. I won’t let my sister get swept away into the waves like a piece of rock, lost forever. Lizzy, her face red with anger when I drag her back to the shore. Lizzy, not noticing the tears in my eyes as I hug her tight. Lizzy—</em>
</p><p>“Stop.” My fingers reach up to pull at the roots of my hair, wishing that the pain would root me—would pull me out of my own head, away from my own thoughts.</p><p>It doesn’t work.</p><p>I can’t get out of my head. All I can see is everyone’s faces, the faces of everyone I have ever cared about, dead and gone. Mom, dad, Ben, Lizzy, Kai, Sonya. They’re all gone because of me.</p><p>I took the life jacket. I was supposed to be on the boat with Lizzy and Ben and Mom. I was supposed to protect them. I was supposed to keep them safe.</p><p>I was supposed to have my head cut off, but Kai lost his instead. I was supposed to die, but Sonya killed Vivian for me.</p><p>Sonya was supposed to live, but she died. She died because of me.</p><p>Sonya is dead because somehow in her deluded state of blood loss she thought that I had more to live for than she did.  </p><p>She didn’t even know who I was—<em>who I am. </em>She didn’t know that I’ve lost almost everyone that gives me something to live for.</p><p><em>Except Finnick. Except Mags. </em>They’re the only things that help me to wake up in the morning, to keep me moving. They’re the only reason I want to make it out of here alive.</p><p>They’re the only reason I want to go back to District Four.</p><p>
  <em>Go home.</em>
</p><p>That’s what she told me to do. At the beginning, it seemed easy enough. Don’t die, try not to hurt anybody, kill only if you absolutely must, get out of here alive.</p><p>Alive. What does that even mean anymore?</p><p>Does it mean that I’m breathing, that my heart is beating, that all of my organs are working properly?</p><p>If so, then I guess I have a chance at making it out alive.</p><p>If it doesn’t mean that, then what <em>does </em>it mean?</p><p>Does being alive mean that your heart doesn’t just beat to keep your body functioning, but it beats for somebody else?</p><p>Does being alive mean that your brain doesn’t just have to work, but it has to think and not shut down when your regular routine disintegrates because even the simplest of tasks seems too daunting?</p><p>Does being alive mean that you have to do more than the minimal requirements of existence?</p><p>Does it mean that you have to interact with people again, and remind yourself everyday that you’re not in the Arena anymore, that these peoples’ names aren’t going to be in the sky the next night?</p><p>
  <em>Does being alive mean anything other than not being dead?</em>
</p><p>If so, then I don’t know if I’ll ever be alive again.</p><p>             </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Everything feels so foggy and slow, as if I’m stuck in honey, trying to move. I don’t know what’s real or what’s a hallucination anymore. At first, I could somewhat figure it out, but now it’s all blurred together. Quite literally, too—everything is unfocused, all the rocks are turned into gray smudges and the leaves on the trees just look like green blobs.</p><p>All my nightmares are mashed together with reality and I don’t know what my mind is creating and what is really happening. I think my body tries to make me throw up again, but it’s even worse than before—now I have even less in my stomach than I did the last time I tried to throw up. This time, I have no more water to clear away the taste and, if I try to eat food, it’ll just be a waste.</p><p> I know that this never-ending circle is not one I want to get stuck in, but I keep telling myself that I’ll eat a bite of food when my mind clears a little, and then I’ll go get water.</p><p>
  <em>I’ll just wait a little longer.</em>
</p><p>I must have drifted back into sleep because it’s almost sunset when I open my eyes, but, then again, I don’t really know if I can trust the sunset to be at a normal time. It feels like I’m stuck in a story, a demented, twisted, horrible nightmare of a story.</p><p>The Gamemakers are manipulating this Arena, this horrible place that I’m trapped in, and my brain won’t work properly, and everything is so confusing.</p><p>The world around me seems to have shifted, and everything is askew. The trees loom over me, trapping me in a cage, the rocks pulse around me in synch with my beating heart—trapping me, suffocating me. The birds’ song turns into screams, and nothing can make them stop, nothing can block out their noise. The hard dirt beneath me moves like water, making me more and more nauseous.</p><p>Sonya appears in front of me and Kai is here, too. For once they aren’t covered in blood, and I wonder if their deaths were just a bad dream. They’re here, in front of me, so it must have been a nightmare. <em>It must have been. </em></p><p>Behind them, Vivian appears, her mouth a red grin. But she isn’t smiling—the smile on her face is blood, red, metallic <em>blood</em>. An evil grin carved onto her face by a knife—<em>whose knife? </em>Her eyes are the same, ice-cold blue that sends fear trickling down your spine.</p><p>I blink and she’s in front of me, not doing anything, just standing, her bloody smile dripping onto me. When the red blood touches my skin it burns, like acid, like flame.</p><p>I blink again and she’s gone, and the blisters on my arms are gone, too. <em>Were they ever really there?</em></p><p>My head pounds and I see Kai, comforting me on the train. I see him hand me a piece of cloth to stop the blood, but when I reach out to take it, he disappears.</p><p>Tears start dripping down my face and through my watery vision I see Finnick, holding his hand out to me.</p><p>I don’t know what’s real or not anymore. But Finnick’s here, and he’ll make everything okay. <em>He will, won’t he?</em></p><p>I reach my hand out towards him, and out of the corner of my eye I see Mags. She’s smiling, telling me it’s okay. Finnick is closer now, and he’s holding his arms out towards me.</p><p>“Finnick?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Finnick?”</p><p>He doesn’t answer, and I reach out to him. His hand reaches out to me, and it’s pale, paler than I’ve ever seen it. He’s always out on the beach, so his skin’s always been tan. Now it isn’t.</p><p>Our hands brush, but I don’t feel anything, it’s as if his hand never touched me. I reach out again, and his hand is gone. My eyes jerk up to his face, which is now translucent.</p><p>
  <em>Am I dreaming?</em>
</p><p>Finnick is slowly disappearing, fading into nothing. I rub my eyes to try and wake myself up, to try and shake away this strange nightmare, but nothing happens and my hands only come back wet. <em>When did I start crying?</em></p><p>“Finnick?” I ask, but I don’t know if it’s in my head or coming out of my mouth. I can’t tell if I’m screaming or crying or whispering or dreaming.</p><p>Everything is so confusing.</p><p>The trees around me seem to be folding into themselves and I can’t tell if the ground is below me or above me or surrounding me. The sky is swirling different shades of blue, like the ocean.</p><p>The sky above me is underneath me, now, and I’m floating, a piece of driftwood in the middle of the sea. The rocks I’d tucked myself into are waves, crashing into me. They break into a million pieces before reforming and crashing again and again, hitting me.</p><p><em>“Make it stop. Please,” </em>I whimper, my body curled tightly into a ball. My eyes are squeezed shut, but the nausea still hits me hard every minute or so—my body still thinks I’m out in the ocean, being rocked around on waves.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I don’t know how long I stayed like that, eyes shut, crying for someone to <em>please make it stop. </em></p><p>I just remember hearing the faint scraping of metal against rock. I remember seeing the metal canister, exactly the same as the one I’d opened earlier.</p><p>I remember removing the parachute of this new canister and the overwhelming sense of déjà vu as I opened it. I remember seeing three muffins inside.</p><p>I think I took a small bite of a muffin, but I didn’t eat much of it at all. After, I think I fall asleep, for what felt like the hundredth time that day (or was it?). The muffins were just another thing to eat, and probably Mags and Finnick trying to encourage me to build up my strength.</p><p>I remember something in the back of my mind bugging me about them, some reminder that they’re more than just muffins. They’re a message from Mags and Finnick—and they must mean more than just a reminder to eat, they have to.</p><p>Now the bright light of day is shining through the cracks in the rocks, blinding me. I stretch my arms and for a second, everything feels normal—or, at least, as normal as things are in the Arena.</p><p>My nightmares hit after that second, almost making me curl up into a ball again. But this time I don’t, and I try to take deep breathes. My mind finally feels clear of everything, of the fog that had settled over it, of the intertwined nightmares and reality.</p><p>I remember the muffins, and pull the most recent canister onto my lap. Inside, two whole muffins sit, and one practically whole muffin sits.</p><p>Carefully, I pick off another small corner of the muffin and eat it, waiting before I take another bite. <em>Okay…no nausea, yet. </em>Very slowly, I eat almost half of the muffin, until I get to the center and eat something that is definitely not supposed to be in a blueberry muffin.</p><p>Cupping my hand so that the camera in the tree won’t see it, I spit out a wad of <em>something. </em>Looking closer, I realize it’s paper. I unfold it and read—in what is unmistakably Finnick’s handwriting—<em>I choose you.</em></p><p>Automatically, my hand reaches up to hold onto my necklace, as if it’s really Finnick’s hand, as if it gave me some tangible connection to him. A small smile creeps onto my face, and it feels strange. <em>Should I be smiling this soon after people I cared about died?</em></p><p><em>"Stop</em>,” I tell myself, shaking my head. I reach for the other two muffins, pulling each into halves to find two more messages in the center of each muffin.</p><p>The first reads, <em>In through the nose. Out through the mouth.</em></p><p>I smile to myself a little, knowing that it must have been Mags who wrote this note. Looking at the camera as if I’m looking into Mags’ eyes, I exaggerate deeps breathes, still smiling.</p><p>The next muffin doesn’t have writing on the slip of paper, only a set of arrows. I don’t want to think about the logistics of Finnick and Mags sending me this, but I’ll take what I can get.</p><p>Before I move to collect what little things I have, a thought flashes through my mind, a thought that cuts through clearer than any thought I’ve had in days.</p><p>
  <em>I won’t let him break me. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Standing up, filled with fresh resolve to go back home to Mags and Finnick, I immediately have to sit back down. Too many Sundays spent with Mags in a church full of incense and perfume and heat has taught me not to keep walking when the world starts to fade away into darkness.</p><p>More slowly, I try standing up again, and this time I’m met with success. I gather what little things I have and focus half my attention to not thinking about why I don’t have all the supplies Kai and I kept. The other half of my attention goes towards looking for signs of water, along with recalling the arrows written on that slip of paper. They must lead to something useful, something that will get me to safety—or Finnick and Mags wouldn’t have sent it.</p><p>I trust them and their directions, but I don’t trust the cameras, so I settle for a quick memorization of the arrows, and hope that it will become obvious the closer I get.</p><p>Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way, but soon after I saw signs of water, so I knew I wasn’t too far off Finnick and Mags’ original course.</p><p>The ground becomes muddier as I come closer and everything seems a bit greener. Even the birds’ songs seem a little cheerier. The light filtering in through the trees seems softer, warmer—but not hot.</p><p>I hear the trickling of water before I see the small pool of clear water, surrounded by worn rocks covered in moss. I relax my tense shoulders, rolling them back, and let out a long sigh of relief. Pulling out my bottle, I fill it up with water, slipping in a tablet to filter it. I found it in the first cannister of food Finnick and Mags sent to me.</p><p>I find a comfortable rock to tuck myself next to and wait, trying as best I can to let the water filter for the correct amount of time.</p><p>I’m still waiting when I hear a branch crack, and the sound of someone breathing.</p><p>My hand goes straight to the knife I have beside me, and I try to hide myself underneath a larger rock, hoping that whoever this is won’t see me.</p><p>The breathing doesn’t go away, but it almost sounds as if the person is <em>crying. </em>Knowing it’s a bad idea, but still choosing to do it, I peek my head out and look around at the area surrounding the small pool.</p><p>Footprints in the mud on the opposite side lead to and from the lip of the water—whichever tribute this is must have a camp nearby. Even though all the signs point to a tribute being nearby, I feel at ease.</p><p>I don’t know if it’s exhaustion or lack of food or sleep, but the fear that was always lingering in me when I was apart of the Career pack—it’s just <em>gone. </em>Fear of all the other things that can kill me in this Arena linger in the back of my mind, but my gut tells me that this tribute won’t hurt me.</p><p>I quickly run through tributes who might be alive, but I’m better acquainted with the list of dead tributes than the list of ones who are alive.</p><p>Abruptly, before logic can convince me otherwise, I stand up, and start to make my way over to the other side of the water. I have to sit down again, but this time I have fresh water to help with the oncoming headache and my lightheadedness.</p><p>Still a little woozy from standing up too quickly and not having enough water to drink, I cautiously make my way over to where I heard the crying. Standing behind a group of bushes, I peek through, trying my best not to make any noises.</p><p>The effort is wasted, because I can’t contain the gasp I let out when I see Ben, sitting in the clearing.</p><p>
  <em>This must be a dream. </em>
</p><p>But even so, it’s such a wonderful dream.</p><p>I want to run over to him and pull him into a hug, hold him tight until I wake up.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe this isn’t a dream.</em>
</p><p>Ben looks so real, and everything feels so alive. If this is a dream, then the pool of water was a dream, too, and maybe the muffins were too.</p><p>
  <em>But it felt so real. It <span class="u">feels</span> so real.</em>
</p><p>My mind felt too clear earlier for this to all be in my sleep. Something is off.</p><p>
  <em>Ben’s here.</em>
</p><p>It hits me again and my eyes cloud with tears.</p><p>
  <em>This must be it, this is the end.</em>
</p><p>I get to see my family again. I’ll get to see Mom and Dad and Ben and Lizzy. Everything will be alright. I’ll be safe and Finnick won’t get hurt because of me. He’ll be safe, too.</p><p>
  <em>It’ll be over soon, and then I’ll get to go home. To my real home. Back to my family.</em>
</p><p>I take slow steps towards the clearing, a smile ready on my face. Ben comes into view and instead of a matching smile, his face becomes confused.</p><p>“Ben? Ben, that’s you, isn’t it?” I ask, my voice becoming more and more frantic.</p><p>“Annie? Annie, please don’t kill me.”</p><p>“What?” My eyes go wide and I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought of Ben. Trying to dislodge the hope that had sparked inside of me, the hope that it would all be over.</p><p>“Please,” Andrew begs, tears dripping down his face. I rush to his side and pull him into a tight hug, still clearing away Ben’s face. I want to do nothing but curl up and cry, but Andrew needs my help. He doesn’t need more tears.</p><p>"It’s okay, it’s ok. I’m here, I won’t hurt you,” I whisper, ignoring the hollow feeling the words give me as they pass through my lips. I want to wish on every shooting star in the night sky that Ben is safe now, and that I’ll be able to keep Andrew safe—that I’ll be able to take care of him, like I failed to do for Ben.</p><p>It’s only when Andrew pulls out of the hug and I see what’s behind him, that I realize why he was crying so much, and why his eyes are so red and puffy.</p><p>“Oh, Andrew,” I say softly, because I don’t know what else to say.</p><p>Andrew had pulled away from my hug to go hug somebody else—what I first thought was a sleeping Maizie. She’s in full view now, and I can see that she’s not sleeping.</p><p>She’s dead.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Andrew,” I say, walking over and squeezing his shoulders. We’re both facing her now, and I can see that she must have died around the same time as Kai and Sonya. I don’t remember hearing any other canons before or after—but I guess after they died, I didn’t pay much attention to the names in the sky. I didn’t want more proof that they wouldn’t come back to me.</p><p>Andrew slips out from underneath my arm and grasps onto Maizie. “I—I couldn—couldn’t save her,” he stutters between sobs.</p><p>“Shhh,” I say, rubbing his back and hoping that in some way I can be reassuring. Just this morning I was a complete mess of tears and sobbing and dead bodies haunting me—so really, I don’t know what I have to say to Andrew, but I have to try and help him.</p><p>“It—it was—”</p><p>“No,” I say firmly, “it wasn’t your fault Andrew. No matter what happened, you were not the one who took her life, do you hear me?” Andrew nods glumly, and I reach over to try and work his hand out of Maizie’s. “Can you listen to me?” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for a response.</p><p>Andrew doesn’t meet my eyes. “Yes.”</p><p>“I’m here now, and everything will be okay. You just have to let go of her, let Maizie go back home. There’s nothing we can do for her now except let her go back to her family.” He still won’t meet my eyes. “Do you hear me, Andrew? What happened before—what made her die—is all in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I bite my lip, that wasn’t good wording. “She still matters, but there’s nothing we can do for her now. We need to let Maizie go home to get a proper burial, a proper place to rest. She can’t rest here.”</p><p>“You—you’re going to help me?” Andrew asks, his voice startled.</p><p>“Of course.” I give him a smile and take his hand. “Now, we need to walk away and let her go home, can you do that?”</p><p>After a long look back at his district partner—his friend—Andrew looks up at me and nods.</p><p>“Okay,” I say quietly, leading us away into the woods.</p><p>We hear the hovercraft before we see it—or, rather, see the claw that picks up Maizie, carrying her body up into the sky.</p><p>“She’s in a better place now,” I tell Andrew, not commenting on the tears still streaking his face.</p><p>“We’re safe, though, right?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll keep you safe.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really wanted to have this chapter be longer, but I think it would have felt forced if I continued on with her perspective in this chapter, so I tried my best to stop where it felt natural (I hope you still like it, though!) &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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